Then I Defy You Stars
by Speary
Summary: They won if you ignore what they lost. Lucifer and Amara are gone, but no one could save Cas. So Dean gave up. With the passage of time and Sam's support, Dean makes a life for himself far from hunting and the supernatural. He runs a planetarium and teaches astronomy, because Cas told him once that when heroes fell, one could still find them in the stars. Dean looks to the stars.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is my writer's block fic. It is now nearly 200 pages long, so I might as well start posting it. This fic is getting me in the right headspace for Lil Chorus for the Dying. Sorry about the long wait on that. Family health issues and work have made writing a secondary concern (well, not writing as much as posting). Anyway, here's the peace offering. It'll all get posted this week, so you won't have much of a wait on this one.**

The lights in the planetarium were off. Dean was about to start up the presentation, but no one was with him to see it. They had all gone home hours ago, but he needed to relax, settle back into his skin. He started up the projections again, and even the audio accompaniment. Sometimes he would just watch it silently. Tonight though he wanted to hear the voice that sometimes felt too familiar, despite the fact that it really wasn't.

The voice that filled the room was rich and melodious. It soothed away the day and made him almost sleepy. He settled into one of the high backed seats and let it tip back as the stars popped into existence overhead with the words of the narrator. A small corner of the indoor sky contained a swirl of light, the Aurora Borealis. Dean sighed and closed his eyes for a second to let his mind dip into memories and the beginnings of dreams.

It had taken him years to find this reality, to eke out a chunk of existence that he could tolerate. Sam had helped him get to this place. If it hadn't been for him, Dean surely would have given up, let himself slowly waste away to nothingness. He lived though, and even thrived, in some ways more than others.

They lost Cas. It was never as simple as just fighting the good fight, or never giving up. A person can care a great deal and fight until the world is bloody and all that can be seen is rage. In the end everything can still be lost and all can smell like rot. Dean wallowed in those thoughts for nearly a year before Sam snapped him out of it.

He had found Dean in a run down, beat up old motel that likely charged most of its patrons by the hour. Dean was alone in there, had been for some time. His unconscious body was sprawled across the orange and brown comforter. His hand curled tight around the now empty bottle of Jack. Sam might have prayed for a bit of healing for Dean. He couldn't remember most of that time or what Sam had done. He remembered not caring and the way that he had passed out night after night-the drip, drip, drip of the leaky motel faucet his lullaby.

He remembered the things that he wanted to forget though. He remembered the way it felt to lose. He remembered what it felt like to let go, to have everything pulled from his hands. He cursed God and anyone that could hear him. He raged and trashed the room he was in. He lashed out, and no one tried to stop him. He tried to let Sam take over at first. When Sam ate, he ate. When Sam heard of a demon that needed to be destroyed, Dean would follow and do his part. He let himself be lead, but living in Sam's wake did nothing to dull the hurt. He decided rather quickly that he would leave, and that no one would find him. The world could just let him slip away too.

Once Sam found Dean, fixing him became one truly difficult task. Dean might have chosen to fight Sam at first, but Sam had made plans for that. He had given Dean tasks, not hunting. Dean made it clear that he was out of that life. "Done my time." Instead, he let Sam distract him with college. It began simply enough. Sam was taking a class and told Dean to come with him. No commitment needed, just audit the course.

So he did, and he loved it. He took classes in science and eventually he found a niche that fit him just right, astronomy. He wasn't sure what did it, but he thought that it might have been all of the late night drives in the middle of nowhere, back and forth across the US. Miles on miles in country dark, with only the sky full of stars looking down on him. The sky, like the Impala, was his constant companion. He took comfort from it, from its predictability and guiding lights. It might have also been something else too, something that lingered in one of the memories that he tried not to dwell upon. The flash of light, the dying star of memories that he continually tried to lose. Somehow those pockets of thought pushed him to this new life too.

He finished out his AS in a year and a half. He transferred to a four year for the BS. Sam was by that point no longer worried about him. He too had given up the hunting life. He consulted and took classes when he felt like it. Dean took more classes than most. His nights were filled with books and study. He got glasses at one point, thinking that they'd just be used occasionally for reading the tiny footnotes in textbooks, but they managed to become a bit more permanent than he had thought they'd be.

His four year BS was accomplished just a year and a half after his AS. He was shaving off a semester with each milestone, and he felt proud. He had decided to keep going though. A Masters would let him teach at a small community college. He was pleased with the thought. He considered going for the doctorate, but realized that it was just because he wanted to be called Professor Winchester or Doctor Winchester.

He found a Master's program that he liked, and once again managed to get accepted. He lived at the library and devoured the books. He even took on a small teaching job as a T.A. running the discussion section for the lower division course. It paid squat. In fact, one could make more flipping burgers, but he was in it for other reasons. He scored papers, talked about the chapters on dwarf planets and black holes. He never once let his mind truly consider why this subject really caught him, or why he let it keep him.

Some of his professors had been quite pleased with him, and had offered to help him find work when he graduated. Most of the members of his cohort had been much younger than him, almost all of them in their twenties and energetic. He carried the weight of the world, but he did not let that show in his lectures. He let the students see his enthusiasm for the infinite universe. Sometimes he let himself think of the time when the vast expanse above was almost his home. Death had said that he could take him far from earth. When he had the Mark, it had seemed like the best solution. Go live among the stars. One can't hurt anyone from out there.

Of course things didn't end that way. It might have been better if it had. _Cas might..._ He shut down that thought every time. Death likely would agree that Dean had missed an opportunity to do less harm when he instead chose to save Sam.

He made his way out of the planetarium some time later. The courtyard just outside afforded him a view of the star-marked sky. He stood in the middle of it and tucked his hands in his jacket pockets. He stared up and mapped out the constellations that he now knew nearly as well as he knew the vast array of interstate highways that stretched across the country.

The darkness between the patches of light, those places were sometimes the focus. The parking lot lights were polluting the view a little with their orange glow. He had signed a petition once to get them to change out the bulbs to something less sickly, but that had gone nowhere. The sky seemed to almost pulse. He rubbed his eyes, feeling the long day that was now behind him. He was tired and would fall into immediate sleep the moment that his head hit the pillow. It was almost 9 and he almost laughed at the thought that this felt late. He remembered a time when he could burn the midnight oil and survive on five hours. Like a lot of things, that was a part of a different life.

He heard the clack of her shoes before she drew up to his side. It took some concentration for him to not turn to her in greeting right away. He wanted to cling to the silence just a moment longer, that and the lonely vision of the sky. Charlotte was okay though. She'd stand at his side and share the vision for a bit before breaking the silence with chatter.

She looked like the reaper Billie. When he first saw her, his hand fell instinctively to his side where he no longer carried a weapon. She taught philosophy, a night class on the other side of the courtyard. It was like a funny joke, that someone had decided to put the philosophers right next to the scientists. They rarely talked of philosophy though, well, not directly anyway.

"You seem content. Good class tonight?" He looked at her as she spoke.

"I like the night class. Plus, tonight was our night in the planetarium."

"Oh, you maximized your time in there today then. I heard you had the littluns in there for some sort of elementary school field trip thing." She smiled at him and her teeth and eyes sparkled under the moonlight.

"Yeah, I think that was the best part of the day. It's nice to have such an appreciative audience." Dean smiled back and tipped his head toward the parking lot to signify that he'd walk her to her car. She fell into step at his side.

"I think most of your students appreciate you, Dean. Kids though offer up a different kind of appreciation."

"Yeah." He let out a short sigh.

"How come you never had kids?"

"Who says I didn't?" Dean tossed off without really thinking. "I could have a few here and there."

She elbowed him and then asked, "So, you never had kids?"

He went silent a moment and recalled another past that he buried deep down. It was not something that he wanted to think about. "I did have one once." He didn't know why he shared this. His life here could be whatever he wanted it to be. He didn't have to be the sad sack that lost everything every time there was something to lose.

She reached out to him and pressed her hand to his arm in comfort before asking, "What happened?"

"She died." He knew that he'd have to come up with a story that wasn't about Amazons or Sam shooting her. He knew that he'd have to come up with something quick, but he was not finding anything that felt right. She was real, and she was his, so he didn't want to take what little life she had away from her. He didn't want to fill her storyline with fictional childhood illnesses or car accidents.

Thankfully, Charlotte didn't press him further. She just walked at his side and curled her hand into the crook of his arm as they walked. They got to her car, a beat up old Mazda that he'd pick on if he were in the mood. The paint was rust colored, and the interior was sun bleached to some new color that had yet to gain a name. "Ah, my chariot awaits. Thank you for walking me here." She gave his arm a final squeeze before releasing him.

"Anytime." He slapped on a smile to show that he was fine now, everything was so fine, fine, fine.

She tipped her head to the side and stared at him a moment. It reminded him of Cas. He looked away. He tipped his own head back and looked at the stars. She said, "Why'd you pick astronomy?"

He chuckled low, and said, "Random much?"

"Not really. I was just thinking that you'd make a good philosopher. You're a man of faith." She was still smiling at him, still staring at him with her head tipped to the side.

"Don't know what gave you that impression. I've been called a lot of things before, but never a man of faith." He rolled his eyes for emphasis and felt his lips curl up in a smirk.

"Yeah, right. You have tons of faith."

"Really? What makes you think that?"

"The way you look at the stars, it's like you're hoping to see something else, something more."

"We astronomers just want to spot the next undiscovered planet first. I'm just looking for something to slap my name on."

"Nope." She leaned back against her car. "It's more than that. I'd say it looks a lot like praying. You look like you're waiting for an answer. You're definitely a man of faith, Dean Winchester."

"Well, I use to have faith once, a long time ago. Not anymore though. It ain't worth the let down, and there isn't any reason to believe that someone out there is gonna have my back. Sometimes I have hope, like for the next generation or for the diner down the street to have some decent pecan pie. In the end though, hope is a minor thing. Way easier to handle than something like faith."

"Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." She practically whispered the words, and Dean recognized them from the Bible. "Maybe what you call hope is really just another name for faith."

He just shrugged and made like he was going to head off for his car. "I"d best head home. See ya Charlotte."

She gave him a tiny wave and said, "Let's do lunch tomorrow, between your classes."

"Sure. I'll swing by your class." He turned then and walked off to his car. Her words played out in his head though. He didn't have faith. He had no need for it. That had died along with so much else.


	2. Chapter 2

His apartment was small. He didn't require much. It was enough to have a clean space to lay his head at the end of the day. And unlike some of the places that he visited, this one had a decent place to park his baby. He had taken the long route home, snaking by the giant Walmart with its too-bright parking lot. He almost pulled into the place. He had even mapped out where he'd park and how long it would take to walk in, find the liquor aisle, and get the Hell out. He had missed the turn though, maybe on purpose. He had circled back and missed it again. He did this a few more times before he gave up and just drove with his music off and his windows down.

He got home and threw his bag on the couch. He'd been sober for a few years now. There had been slip ups in the early days. Drunken calls to Sam lead to a mother-henning little brother camped out in his space. Sam got him sober, not once, not twice, but on three separate occasions since Cas...

Dean stooped down and picked up his bag again. He rummaged through it for his phone. It was nearly midnight now, and he considered that as he swiped his way through the contacts. Sam would be the first to tell him that the time wasn't important. He could call at 12:00 AM or PM, didn't matter which.

Still, his finger hovered over the name unable to commit to the call. It had been a good day. It had been a really good day with kids and science enthusiasm. Yet there he was driving past the one place in town that was still open and stocked with what he craved. _What had done it?_ He wondered, not for the first time. It was always some stupid innocuous thing. The saddest things in his past were always on his mind, but one little thing could happen and suddenly he was falling apart.

He committed to the call. It rang once. "Dean?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there in a couple of hours. You'll be okay?" They had a certain shorthand. Dean hadn't said anything beyond the _Yeah_ , but Sam was fluent in Dean's tones, especially when Dean was at his worst. He'd nursed him through those moments enough times to really know them.

"No, don't make the trip. I'm fine. I just needed to talk to you for a minute. I needed a little grounding."

"What happened?"

"I don't even know. Nothing. Everything. It was a really good day, Sam." He hated that he sounded pathetic, broken. He hated the crack in his voice, the whine that sat just beneath the surface.

"Good days are harder. At least when things are shitty, you aren't wishing you could share it with someone that can't be there."

 _And that was it exactly._ "How'd you know? How is it that you always know?"

"I get that way sometimes too. I start to send up a little prayer, and then I realize that he's not gonna hear it. It's always when something good happens, like I forget because I really want him to be a part of it." Sam stopped. Dean could hear his breathing. There was comfort in the silence that was punctuated by Sam's life played out in something as simple as breathing."Tell me about this good day."

"The Springdale Elementary kids came for the planetarium. It was a great group. They were so excited about everything. Plus, they asked intelligent questions. I think sometimes that I missed out by not picking a path that would put me in an elementary classroom."

"Not much call for astronomy teachers in elementary schools."

"Yeah, I guess. It would have been fun though. I like how they think. They see things so vividly. I like the innocence of it all. I like the way that they aren't afraid. They look at the sky and they see the light first, before the dark. The stars are their focus."

"Isn't that true for everyone a little?"

"No. At least not the adults I know."

"And you wanted to share the day with Cas?"

Dean didn't answer right away. He let the seconds click by. Sam was breathing into the phone. Dean's hands were clammy. He sat down. Dean started tapping the front of his one shoe against the heel of his other. "Yeah."

"You sure you don't want me to come down there?"

"I'm sure." He sucked in a breath. "I just needed to tell you, so I wouldn't carry it by myself."

"Did Cas like kids?" Dean knew that Sam was just giving him a gentle push into sharing his feelings, his thoughts, but he hadn't expected to do more than share the little that he had. He wanted to be a little vague a little general. The question was too specific for that.

"I don't know. Maybe. Yeah. I think so."

"Well, you said it was a good day with kids, so I have to assume that you associate that with Cas, or was there some other event that got you thinking?"

Dean let his mind drag back over the day. "Not really. I talked with Charlotte a bit about faith and such. It was idle chit chat though."

Sam practically laughed. "Idle chit chat about faith. Yeah, I'm sure that in no way connected in your head to Cas."

Dean hummed out a non-committal tone into the phone before saying, "Okay, maybe it did."

"I know he liked Claire, but I don't remember him ever interacting with any actual kids beyond her. I'm betting the faith talk was the kicker." Sam's voice sounded casual, like they were just riding along in the Impala passing the time.

Dean felt the weight on his chest lift away a little. He thought about the past a little, of Cas and kids. "There was this one time in particular."

"Yeah," Sam encouraged.

"Yeah, when I left you and Kevin to go help Cas out, back when he was human."

"Oh, when he was working as a clerk or something, right?"

"Yeah. He thought that he was going on a date with his boss. She had a baby. I dropped him off, gave him some pointers. Turned out he was there to babysit while his boss went on a date, with someone not him."

"Ouch. Kinda funny though that he misunderstood the situation to that degree." Sam laughed a little, and Dean laughed a little with him.

"The things that Cas misunderstood must be legion." He laughed again, but it died out abruptly. Dean quickly went back to the story to keep from letting the feelings overtake him. "So, just an hour into his gig and the baby starts crying and such. Cas checks for a temperature and discovers that the baby has a little fever. At least he knew to call me before he fully freaked out."

"I thought that you all were on a case then."

"We were, but I already told you about all of that." Dean huffed out a sigh and continued. "Anyway, we took care of the evil business, and I took care of the baby for a bit while Cas cleaned up. We got the baby back to sleep, but Cas insisted on holding her for a bit before putting her back to bed. He just wanted to watch her sleep like doing that was the one thing that could give him peace."

In the silence of the moment, Dean remembered with clarity the seconds that had passed then and how they had stretched out into something eternal. It was one of those times he had set to repeat. Castiel was in his slightly unbuttoned white shirt, hair a little messy from the fight, holding a sleeping baby to his chest. Occasionally, he pressed a kiss to the child's head. It was a gentle moment that brought Dean peace too. The child's tiny hands were curled into fists against his chest. At some point, Cas had looked up at him. They had stared at each other often over the years, but in this singular moment, they were truly on the same page, or so Dean thought.

Cas had murmured, "I should put her to bed." Dean had nodded. He followed Cas to the crib and helped him with the rail. The baby didn't wake up as he slowly set her down. Her lips pooched out though in a little kissing movement that made Cas smile which made Dean smile too. Dean had settled a hand on Cas' back, and they had stood there together for a few minutes just looking down at the child that was not theirs. Cas had leaned into Dean's side a little more, like they weren't already close enough.

He couldn't remember how long they had stood there, but it had felt like forever and also like no time at all. At some point he had turned to Cas and found that their faces were quite close. He remembered feeling his heartbeat in his ears. Cas wasn't breathing right. He licked his lips and Dean tracked the movement hungrily.

"Nora will be home soon," Cas had said, and like that the spell was broken. Dean had stepped aside, letting his hand drop from Cas' back.

Cas moved back into his space though. He brushed a couple of fingers back up through Dean's hair near his temple. "Cas?" Dean had practically whispered the name.

"You have a cut here." His fingers seemed to touch some sensitive spot on his scalp. "Let me clean you up."

Dean smiled at him and said, "Is it bleeding?"

Cas leaned to the side a little and looked at it a bit more closely. "No, not anymore, but Nora shouldn't see it."

"I can always just wait in the car." Dean didn't step away though.

"Or you can let me clean it up and then you can wait in the car." Cas had dropped his hand down to Dean's elbow and pulled him out of the room and to the kitchen. Dean let him work. Cas got a washcloth and soaked it in warm water. He squeezed out the excess into the sink before dabbing at the wounded area. There was an intimacy in the moment. When Cas finished, he didn't immediately step away. Dean lowered his forehead to Cas' shoulder.

"Thanks," he mumbled into the cloth and scent of him. Cas' hand settled on his back in a move that made this moment a hug or the beginnings of something more. In the quiet, Dean prayed, knowing that Cas couldn't hear him, yet wanting to tell him what he wanted, what he hoped for just the same. But he had made a mess of things back then when he sent Cas away from the bunker, and he had silently talked himself out of taking comfort from Cas anymore than he already had. He stepped away, and Cas' hand returned to his side. "I'm gonna wait in the car until Nora returns."

Like that he had left the room, and Cas hadn't stopped him. He had thought that Cas would come out to the car later and tell him to take him to some apartment somewhere. He had imagined watching him go. He had imagined following him too. It had been different with Cas being human. There was something a little pure about it all and maybe a little magical too. Instead when Cas got in the car, they didn't go to any home or even a run down motel. Instead Cas asked him to just drive and let the night pass.

When they finally stopped driving, they pulled to the side of a country road next to a big open field. They got out and leaned against the hood of the car. Cas had tipped his head back and looked up at the sky. He looked like he was mapping out the constellations. Dean followed his gaze and did the same. He didn't know as many as Cas surely, but he knew the major ones: Orion's Belt, Ursa Major and Minor, the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper. They lingered there for hours just silently watching the sky. "I've missed you," Cas quietly confessed.

Dean had responded, "Same here." He chanced a glance at him. Cas was looking at him too.

Then Cas looked back to the stars. "I fear too early for my mind misgives some consequence yet hanging in the stars..." Cas let his voice trail off.

"Okay Shakespeare." Dean chuckled. "What's that about?"

"Just a passage that seemed relevant tonight." He pointed up to the sky and leaned into Dean's side. "See that group of stars there?"

Dean noted the general area that Cas pointed out. "Yeah, I think I see what you're pointing at."

"That is Cygnus, the swan. Some call it the Northern Cross. I spent some time there, just gazing at the brightness of Denab. It is a white supergiant. It is brilliant to behold."

Dean stared up at it, noting the one brighter star in the cross-shaped constellation. He looked back to Cas and saw that he was gazing back at the sky. His face was awash in moonlight and looked more human than angelic now. If pressed to explain, Dean was sure that he would be unable to express what the difference really was. Cas still looked for the most part like he had always looked, yet now, though, he was missing the stoic presence in his features that came from having seen everything enough times to have become bored. "Cas, now that you're human, what happens if..." He didn't know how to finish the question all of a sudden. "I mean, do you have a soul now?"

Cas slowly turned from his vision of the sky. "I'm not sure. I might have a soul. Of course I might not. I might just cease to exist when all of this is done." He waved his hands at his sides a little signifying in the move all of his humanity. "Or maybe I'll die a hero and get placed in the stars."

Dean tried to imagine a constellation that could be a fitting representation for Cas. "So you wanna be like a giant star gerbil or something?"

They both laughed at that. "No, I think I'd like a more human shape. Yes, I think I would like that. Then I could still watch over those that matter to me."

That had given Dean pause. It sounded like Cas thought that he would not be long for this world. It sounded like he thought that he'd die first. Years later and reality would prove to have a dark sense of humor. Dean reached across the hood to him. He gave Cas' hand a little squeeze. "I wish things could be different."

Cas let his hand go. "Let's not." He leveled his gaze at Dean and then the sky again. "Let me tell you about that one instead." He pointed at another part of the sky.

"Go ahead, Cas. Tell me about the stars." He found Cas' hand again, and Cas did not pull away. Instead, he told him the stories about the heroes hidden in the sky above.


	3. Chapter 3

When he hung up with Sam many hours later, he felt better. He didn't feel the need to drive off to the nearest liquor store or Walmart. He was grounded again and capable of plodding through the day to day routines. He dreamed that night of stars and whirls of celestial lights. They were all shades of deepest cerulean blue. They were Cas' eyes watching over him from far away.

The cool night breeze flowed past his open window, and the night sounds set up a soothing backdrop for his sleep. The light of the moon seemed to dance past the curtains over his bed. He opened his eyes, the dream still clouding everything. It was late, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't alone. He had a salt line permanently present at the doors and windows. He wasn't afraid. He was wary.

The light over his bed seemed to shimmer a little. He chalked it up to the curtains and the breeze at first. Yet, upon further scrutiny, he saw that the curtains were still. _Something is here._ He sat up. He held his hand out into the light. He felt something now too. It felt like something had enveloped his hand in warmth. It was soothing and soft.

He jumped up out of the bed and grabbed the iron rod that he had next to the nightstand. He swung it through the light, but nothing happened. "What do you want?" Still, he wasn't afraid.

No response came to him. Nothing fell to the floor in a startling heap. There was just light and Dean standing in his underwear, wielding an iron rod in front of him. He edged back over to the bed and lowered the weapon. He reached into the light slowly. It felt warm. Dean considered calling Sam again, but it was just past 3:00 AM now, and Sam had done enough.

He had managed to not deal with the supernatural since taking the new job. There had been some little hiccups while he was earning his degrees, but for the most part, he had cut that out of his life. _Leave that to the young ones._ Claire kept in touch. She was fighting the good fight, and she was strong with good instincts. _Cas would be proud._ He shook his head to clear the thought. His hand was still stretched out in front of him. The light still wrapped around his hand like it was holding it. He was not afraid. _So now I have a ghost. Great._ The apartment wasn't old. He had checked the history. It hadn't experienced any great tragedies.

 _I should really call Sam about this._ But he couldn't. Instead, he just crawled back into the bed and settled his back against the headboard. He stared at the light and willed himself into staying awake. "You better not try anything." The light did not shift or give off any bit of communication. It just was, and Dean could only sit there and look at it until sleep overtook him.

* * *

When Dean awoke in the morning, his whole room was bright with the sunshine blasting in past his curtain. He startled awake and looked at the clock. "Shit, shit, shit." He was late. He must have turned off the alarm. He stumbled out of the bed and tried putting on his pants as he was running to the next room. He wondered if he could pull himself together fast enough. The students would wait for the 15 minute grace period that all students believed was all that was required. He couldn't blame them. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on his way out and he looked like a mess. He ran his hands through his hair and dashed out the door anyway.

He was parked and out of his car in almost an instant. He was dashing across campus. Five minutes late at this point, and he was certain that he'd already lost some of them. He got to the class and saw Charlotte out there talking to some of them. She saw him as he entered the courtyard sprinting. "Nice of you to join us Mr. Winchester." She waved at him and smiled.

"Damn alarm clock didn't go off." He looked down at himself and added, "Am I wearing all of my clothes?" He smiled back at her and the students laughed at him.

"Your tie is missing."

"Haven't worn one once this whole year. Today was not going to be the first time." He unlocked the door and ushered them in. Charlotte lingered until the last student entered. "Thanks for entertaining them."

"I tried messaging you." Dean pulled out his phone and saw that she had messaged him. "I noticed that you weren't here about a half hour ago. You're a creature of habit. When you're not an hour early, I view that a Winchester late."

"I really don't know what happened. Had a horrible night's sleep. I must have turned off the alarm without waking up."

"Done that before. Well, no harm done. Go teach your class so we can get lunch later." She gave him a little punch in the shoulder and walked off. She had a short class in the morning that overlapped with his long class. Sometimes she sat in the back and graded papers, claiming that his lectures were enjoyable. She wanted to do a collaborative lecture, something about the marriage of philosophy and astronomy. He told her that it might be amusing and then went back to his own lectures.

He got through the lecture, and felt like it went well despite the messy start. The morning class was always harder for him. He liked teaching the same class at night, when he could take them out to the courtyard to illustrate his points with the vast array of stars overhead. In the morning it all felt too bright, the sunlight calling the students from him with promises of beaches and other outdoor temptations.

He left his bag and locked up. Charlotte was already sitting out on the bench. He use to worry that she wanted something more from him, but he got over himself pretty quick. She was ten years younger than him and was happy with friendship. She had told him that she really did not want him thinking that dating was going to be a thing for them. At first he was offended, then he remembered that he didn't want to date her or anyone else for that matter. So a comfortable friendship grew between them.

"So, we gonna teach that philosophy/astronomy lecture soon? We could even combine my class with your class for an hour. Might be fun." She got up and slipped an arm in his as they walked to the cafeteria.

"I'm not sure I see it working. What would we even talk about?"

"I'd tell them the myths, and you'd show them where the heroes lie. They'll remember the constellations if we give them a story."

"I don't make them memorize the constellations."

"Well, what kind of card carrying astronomer are you, Dean Winchester? Seriously, memorization is half the fun. It gives you something to test them on at the end of the term." Dean just shrugged. She continued, "I really want to do this. I think it would be fun. I even have some of it mapped out already." She reached down and tapped her bag with her long, red-painted nails.

"If I say yes, will you be happy?"

"Exceedingly." She practically skipped the last couple of steps to the cafeteria, and he was happy to be responsible for that.

* * *

The week passed and he was not revisited by any weird patches of light. He had decided that he had gone temporarily mad. Sam called him, and he didn't even bother mentioning it. He fell back into his routine until Friday night. He was sitting in front of his TV, watching some dumb movie on IFC. He even laughed at himself when he had first lingered on the channel, wondering out loud, when his taste in movies had gotten so old.

The knock at the door startled him. He never had visitors. He carefully set the bowl of popcorn down on the table and hesitantly walked to the door. Just as he was reaching for it, the person knocked again, much louder this time.

"Who are you?" He called out without opening the door.

"Open the door grandpa," Claire's voice carried past the door. He quickly opened it. "'Bout time. Finding it hard to move with your old speed?" She smirked.

He dropped to the ground and swept her legs out from under her. She fell back, but bounced back up immediately with a knife drawn and at his throat. "Okay, truce." Dean laughed.

"You give up too easy." She got up and reached down for him. He took her hand and got back up.

"Not that I'm complaining at all, but what are you doing here?" Dean took her bag and tossed it onto the couch.

"You aren't even gonna offer me something to eat or drink first? Geesh, Dean." She practically fell into the couch and kicked her feet up onto the coffee table.

"I've got stew and cola. Sound good?" He was already heading toward the kitchen.

"Perfect. Give me a full bowl. Don't skimp." She had shown up at Dean's door a few times before. It was always like this, banter and feeding and camaraderie. She still called Jody's place home, and she and Alex ran around the country in an old pickup killing monsters and saving the world. Usually, she called first though before turning up.

He brought the bowl of stew out and set it on the table. The steam from it curled up in little wisps before disappearing. He popped the cap off the colas and handed her one. He sat down next to her and waited for her to shovel the food down her throat. She leaned back when she finished less than a minute later. She tipped back the cola and stared at him past the bottle. "So?"

"What, I can't just visit you?" Claire gave him an incredulous look. Dean just waited. "Fine." She set down the bottle and looked around like she thought that someone else was in the room with them. "Something weird happened, then something else weird happened after that."

"Be specific."

She wiped her hands on her pants and looked around again. "I was sleeping in this stupid motel just off the 40. Alex didn't go with me on this trip, so I had to deal with too much time on my own. Well, ya start imagining things when you don't have someone with you."

"Claire, are you okay?" Dean reached out to her and gave her arm a little squeeze.

"Something was in my room." Her voice shook a little and then she pulled it together. "Normally, I don't let anything get to me, but this was different. I didn't feel like it wanted to hurt me." She looked at Dean and bit her bottom lip a little.

"Was it light?"

She flinched and answered, "Yes, how'd you know?"

"Happened here too." He pointed off toward his room. "It was warm and, I think, friendly.

"Yeah, it didn't hurt me. I treated it like a ghost. It wasn't affected. It was gone by morning."

'Same here. What else happened to you? You said that something else weird happened after that."

"I saw someone. I think he's been following me."

"What did he look like?"

"'Bout your age, maybe a little older. He had a fluffy head of light brown hair. He was short." Claire fidgeted a bit and Dean wondered why this had her rattled. She'd seen worse.

"Did he say anything to you?"

"No, he was just there."

"So, was he following you around town or something? What was he doing?"

"First time I saw him, he was in Sioux Falls at a coffee shop. I noticed him, because he looked familiar. I couldn't place him though. Then I saw him again in Wisconsin Dells, when Alex and I went there to look into a low-key haunting that wasn't." Dean looked at her with concern. "Water wraith," she added. "We dealt with it."

Dean asked, "So you saw this mystery guy in Wisconsin and in South Dakota?" She nodded. "What was he doing in Wisconsin?"

"Same thing he was doing in South Dakota, typing on his laptop and drinking coffee."

"You try talking to him?"

"No, I didn't feel like I could."

That was weird. Dean let that kick around a moment and then asked, "Like a spell?"

"No, I checked for hex bags and such. It was just a feeling, like maybe he wasn't even really there, and if I moved toward him I might have been proved right."

"That's weird." He took her bowl and got up to return it to the kitchen. He called back into the room, "You said he looked familiar."

"Yeah. That's the other thing."

Dean came back with a second full bowl of stew for her. She started eating it like she hadn't already eaten before. "How long's it been since you ate?"

"Just a day. I was pretty determined to get here." She mumbled something else around a bite, but Dean couldn't understand her.

"So, the other thing?"

"I saw your brother a few days ago." Dean nodded. "He let me stay in the bunker. I went through the books and poked around for anything useful."

"You were careful?"

"Of course. I'm not an amateur, Dean." She huffed and set the bowl on the table, the spoon rattled out a protest as she did so.

"Be careful with the fine china." They laughed.

"So, anyway, I found the books about you and Sam. One of them had stuff about my dad. Like actual full chapters about him, not Castiel. I read it, and it freaked me out. The details were like someone was in my house describing down to the minutest thing what was there, what was happening. I asked Sam about it, and he said that it was written by a prophet named Chuck."

"Yeah, that's a long story. Did he get you up to speed?"

"Uh, yeah. God?" She threw her hands up in a move that said, _what haven't we seen._ Dean shrugged in acknowledgement.

"Sometimes he's just Chuck."

"Yeah well, sometimes he's just the one following me too."

"Huh?"

'Yeah."

"Chuck's following you? Why?"

"Or God?"

"Shit."

"Yeah, color me freaked. So either he's writing about me, which eww, don't need that. I saw how he talked about you and Cas. Don't need to have everyone reading about me and Alex like that."

"You and Alex?"

"Shut-it, Dean." Claire sunk back into the couch more and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Chuck seemed like he took liberties with the details he shared." Dean didn't argue with her. He remembered the first time he read the books. He had tried to argue with Chuck's retelling then, but in his head, he knew just how accurate it all was. "So?"

Dean focused on her again. "So what?"

"So, are you going to help me figure out what's going on?"

"I don't do that stuff anymore. Sam does some consulting, but you know I can't."

"Dean." It sounded like begging, and Dean knew how much she hated it. He swore sometimes that they were cut from the same cloth.

"I can't do the hunting thing, Claire, so if this turns into something like that, I have to back out." She looked brighter now. "I'll help with research, nothing more."

"That was all I ever would have asked for anyway." She uncrossed her arms and seemed to relax. "Thanks Dean."

"Yeah, don't make me regret it." He batted a hand at her to get her up off the couch. "Let me get the bed pulled out of the couch for ya so we can all get some sleep. We'll crack the books tomorrow."


	4. Chapter 4

Dean felt like he was missing huge patches of time. They were on their computers for most of the weekend. Sam had uploaded tons of digital versions of the bunker's library onto his laptop some years ago. Claire had shown up with a usb key that had a few gigs more on it. Dean had just groaned and transferred the files over. Much of the time together was spent in silence. On Sunday though, after still turning up nothing on weird patches of light or God or stalker prophets, Claire broke the silence. "Sam said you were having a rough time."

"Don't see why he'd say that." His response didn't happen to be a denial. He really didn't get why Sam would bring it up with Claire.

"He said you'd been missing him more lately, that you were taking it hard."

"Sam shouldn't go around sharing my business." Dean didn't look at her. He kept his focus laser sharp on the screen in front of him.

"I miss him too." Her voice had shifted into something softer. Usually she carried the same sharp edges in her tone that Cas had. There was a rough layer of menace that she could draw on just like he had when the occasion called for it. Now though, she had a sadness coating everything. He felt bad for being short with her. She had lost just as much as he had after all.

"It's only hard on the good days." He looked up at her and saw her eyes fall into a sympathetic squint, also like Cas. He wondered if Jimmy had done that too.

"And on the bad days?

"Some of those are hard too."

She turned back to her computer and typed away until she had pulled up something of note. She turned the laptop to him and pointed at something. "Read this."

He looked at the screen and said, "I've already read all of them. I don't need to read them again."

"Just this one part. I think that it matters, the knowing." She tapped the screen again and gave him a pointed nod as she looked away. Dean let out a humph of exasperation and took the laptop.

"Fine." He read through the passage from one of Chuck's books. It was from a moment that he had shared with Cas. And because Chuck was, well Chuck, he had included some choice internal monologues for both he and Cas. Dean told himself that he hadn't thought like that at all, not one bit, no sir, but deep down, he knew that it was not all that far off the mark.

Then there was Cas. The things that Chuck included, the self-doubt, the concern, the affection. Cas seemed to have felt everything in way that was one part confusion, another part absolute and total acceptance. He hated himself, and at the same time was selfish. He was ready to die fighting alongside Dean in one instant, and in the next ready to say, forget the world, we don't die today. He scrolled past the parts that Claire had pointed out and read from Chuck's narration.

 _What made Castiel special, what made him more than just another angel, was his capacity to love. He had spent lifetimes watching humanity weave lives in a vivid tapestry of wars and suffering, passion and creativity. He had seen the best and the worst that humanity had to offer before he met Dean. Yet until that moment, when an angel of the Lord had pulled a broken man from perdition, he had not understood any of it. It was not personal. It was like watching a television program about fascinating characters. At the end of the hour, one could turn off the TV and turn to other things. It was that way for Castiel._

 _Then there was Dean. Castiel did not want to turn away from him. And that was the difference. Castiel wanted something. It was selfish maybe, yet at the same time it wasn't selfish at all. He'd give up everything if it meant that Dean would have just one good day. Who knows what he'd do if he could guarantee him a good sacrifices would he make if he could know that Dean would get to have peace, a little slice of normalcy. In the fight against Lucifer and all that Hell could unleash, some would give all, and Castiel would be one of them. That was what made him special and would always make him special. It was his capacity to love beyond all that God had ever asked. Humanity and Dean Winchester could ask for nothing more from this angel than that._

Dean handed the laptop back to Claire. Dean said, "Thanks for the trip down memory lane. I'm going to bed. Some of us have to work tomorrow."

She stood up and set a hand on his arm, stopping his progress. "I always knew how it was with you both, but to read it makes it different. He really loved you."

"None of that matters, Claire. Get some sleep." He moved past her to his room.

"You're wrong Dean. It all matters. We wouldn't be so sad about him if it didn't."

He turned back to her and he was angry. He didn't want to be angry with her, but he was. She was stirring things up that had settled, things that didn't need to be brought up. This was why he didn't hunt, or consult. This was why he put hours of driving between himself and the bunker. "Yeah, Claire it all matters!" he yelled. "Everything fucking matters okay. He's not here. He died thinking that he was saving me and maybe the world, but really he was just out to protect me from Amara. He gave up everything. And what came of it? I get to live this shitty life in this shitty apartment alone. Fuck him and his stupid choices and his stupid sacrifices. Fuck him for thinking that he was expendable and that I didn't need him." He was not yelling now. Instead he was crying. He was shaking standing in the doorway to his room, his fingers curled around the door frame, nails digging into the paint.

"Dean." Her tone was too sympathetic again, quiet like Cas would get when he wanted him to talk about what was bothering him. He couldn't listen to her sounding like him.

"Drop it, Claire. Don't bring it up again." He went into his room, slamming the door in his wake.

* * *

Monday came and with it sunshine bright and full on his face. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and ran a hand back up through his hair. His eyes felt gritty and sore. He rubbed them with the heels of his palms and got up. He made his way into the kitchen where coffee was already brewed and Claire was already hovering.

"Morning," she said. She took her cup to the kitchen table and sipped from it while she stared at her laptop.

"Morning." He poured a cup for himself and added a little sugar, gave it a stir, and tossed the spoon into the sink.

He took a seat at the table and pulled his bag over to him. He rummaged until he found his folder with the day's plans meticulously laid out. He read through them and set the gears to working in his mind. This was how he started most days. He liked to think through the lecture in peace and quiet just once more before go time. He put the papers back into the bag and noticed that Claire was watching him. He rolled an eyebrow up just daring her to try revisiting the discussion from the night before. Instead she asked, "Mind if I tag along when you go to work?"

"Why?"

"Dunno, thought it might be interesting. If it isn't I can just go hang in the library and do research there."

"Been cooped up in here for too long." Dean looked around the apartment and then added, "Sure. I'll be leaving in about a half hour. Think you can be ready?"

"Easy."

Today he had one of his morning classes, so he wouldn't likely be impressing Claire with his lecture style then. He didn't really care about that though. Mondays were also a bit routine, but in a good way. He taught the morning class, had lunch with Charlotte, graded some assignments, ran the afternoon planetarium show for the public, and then had a night class.

Claire was ready to go even before he was. They were out the door and off to the school like this was something the two of them did on the regular. Dean found himself smiling a little at the thought of it. "You're gonna be bored today."

"Doubtful."

"You like astronomy?"

"Stars are cool."

"Hmmm." Dean pulled into his usual space at the far end of the lot.

"You know there are tons of spaces right at the front."

"Yep, and tons of cars park there. No one parks over here."

She rolled her eyes at him. "One of these days, old man, you're gonna have to stop babying your car. Time to let her grow up."

"Ain't nothing wrong with protecting the things that matter." He got out and gave the steering wheel an affectionate pat as he left. Claire walked at his side, laptop slung over her shoulder in a compact little bag. He got to his classroom, and Claire set up her laptop at the back like she was a student. "You ever thought about doing the college thing?"

"Shut-it, Dean. I get enough of that from Jody."

He held up two placating hands. "Wasn't gonna harass, just asking."

"Yeah, well I take a lot of grief from her about not going. She still says, every chance she gets, _it's not too late, Claire."_ Claire said the last in a mock Jody voice that made Dean laugh a little.

"Well, she cares."

"Yeah, well sometimes people need to care a little less." She tapped away at her computer and then added, "Hey, sorry for yesterday. Don't worry, that's all I'm gonna say about it. I hate when people meddle in my life, and then I go and do the same to you. Sorry."

"You don't need to apologize. I should be the one saying sorry. You didn't deserve that. Don't want to talk about it, but I shoulda handled it better."

"Well, look at us being all civil." They laughed. The door creaked open and Charlotte poked her head in.

"Hey, Charlotte." Dean waved her in. Dean pointed up at Claire and said, "Claire, meet Charlotte. Charlotte meet Claire."

Charlotte came into the room and walked up to the top row to shake Claire's hand. "Hello, Claire. You a new student?"

"No," she laughed. "I'm just visiting Dean."

Charlotte looked like she was trying to process the relationship. She looked back at Dean and asked, "Former student?"

Claire laughed again. "No, it's complicated. We're kinda family."

"Oh, well it's really nice to meet you. I teach across the courtyard."

Dean came over to her side and said, "So you still up for lunch? Figured Claire should have some cafeteria food while she's here."

"I wouldn't be intruding?"

"God no," Claire said. "I've had enough family bonding time with gramps here. Please join us."

Now Charlotte laughed. "Well, if you don't mind the company, then sure. I'd love to hear some of the Dean Winchester back story."

Claire said, "Oh, I'd love to supply that." Dean got a look on his face that only Claire saw. She added, "I'm so looking forward to lunch."

Charlotte smiled at her then turned to Dean. "I'll be in the courtyard when your class gets out. Just meet me there and we'll walk over."

She left and Dean just hovered nearby. "So what have you told her so far?" Claire looked like she was enjoying Dean's discomfort.

"Please keep the details simple. I haven't told her much of anything."

"You trying to start something with her?"

Dean felt his eyebrows furrow. "No."

"Why?"

"You know why." It was no answer, but it was the best he could do. Claire kept her gaze on him and it added to his discomfort.

"So, did you tell her that you were in the military before, and that you met my dad in the Middle East?"

"I did mention a background in the military. I didn't talk about any family beyond a casual mention."

Claire closed the lid on her laptop. "But you've told her somethings otherwise she wouldn't be so friendly with you. It couldn't all be casual."

"Nothing you come up with will detract from the stuff I've told her. She knows I have a brother and as of a week ago, a dead daughter." Dean looked away as Claire's face dropped into one of confusion. "That was a mistake. Shoulda kept that detail to myself."

"Wait, is that based on fact? Do you have a dead daughter?" She set the laptop aside and got up.

Dean took a step back, keeping distance between them. "Yeah. It was a long time ago. I never really got to know her."

"What was her name?"

"Emma." He whispered the name and didn't make eye contact. It was hard enough just saying her name without having to take in Claire's pitying look.

When he did finally look at her, Claire had settled back into her seat. She drew her laptop to her and said, "When you want to tell me more, I'd like to hear it. I don't imagine though that telling me about her now would be a good mood setter just before your students arrive."

He stood there a moment and then quietly said, "Thank you," and wandered back down the aisle to finish setting up for the lecture.

* * *

Claire had seemed to be interested in the lecture. It went well, and the students had questions which broke the monotony for Dean. As the students were exiting, Charlotte poked her head in the room. Dean gave her a nod and finished shutting off his equipment while talking with a couple of lingering students. Claire packed up and headed out to her.

When Dean emerged he caught the tail end of some conversation that sounded like an invitation to church. "Now you're trying to make Claire a philosopher with your churchy business." Charlotte grinned and Dean went on, "She's a woman of science."

"I can be both. Both is good." Claire laughed at him. They headed off to the cafeteria. "So you don't mind if we do the church thing with Charlotte on Sunday? She was saying that she helped with the sermon."

"Oh, I didn't know you did that sort of thing," Dean said.

"Well, sometimes I do. The reverend wanted to incorporate some of the early Roman philosophers and their ideals into the sermon. We talked shop for a few days and then his plan came together. It's a good sermon. Figured you both might enjoy it."

Dean turned his attention to Claire then and just said, "Claire?"

"What? I church."

Dean laughed, "Yeah right. I forgot." They got their food and found seats near the big, ceiling high windows. The conversation flowed easily. Claire talked of home and Jody. She didn't have to make up much there. She even talked of Alex. Dean picked up on a hint of something in her tone that shifted when she talked about the other hunter. He filed it away for further investigation later.

Then, of course, the inevitable question, "So you said you're kinda family. How are you all related?"

Dean said, "It's complicated."

Claire punched him in the shoulder lightly and then turned her attention to Charlotte. "I should be offended that he hadn't told you about me."

"Well, I didn't know how to slip you into conversation," Dean said defensively.

Claire just went on. Dean should have been a little worried about the look that seemed to spread across her face. "When I first met Dean, I think I hated him." She took a deep breath, clearly getting ready to launch into an epic tale. "You see, my parents were uber religious. This was fine, but it made my dad feel like he couldn't be himself. That lead to him going off and signing up for military service when the US entered into the war in Afghanistan.

Charlotte interrupted, "Dean, is that the war you were in?"

"Yeah," Dean kept his response short.

Claire continued, "Well, I didn't see or hear from my dad for years. He got leave time that he didn't take with us. I wrote to him. He must have gotten stacks of letters from me. I got nothing back."

Charlotte reached across to her and gave her arm a little squeeze. "Oh sweety. That's awful."

"Yeah, it was. He didn't know what he was doing though. He had some PTSD and thought that he was protecting us from things. It's weird though that he changed so drastically overnight." Claire took a breath and gave Dean a quick glance. "He did come home on leave once. It was bad. Too much time had passed. He was miserable and in pain. He couldn't fit back into the family the way that it was now. Even mom was off. In the end, he left, went back to wherever he had been stationed."

Dean chimed in then, seeing Claire's look of sudden discomfort. "He was a good man. He joined because he had an aptitude for languages. He spoke every language I could think of and even some I couldn't, dead languages too. That's how I got to know him. Sammy and I worked together and Cas pulled us both out of one hell of a mission with his language skills. He was a hero."

"That was the other thing." Claire interrupted. She looked at Charlotte and said, "It was hard to like Dean when he had grown so close to my dad while I was seemingly nothing to him anymore."

"It wasn't like that," Dean started.

Claire cut him off. "He even gave dad a nickname, Cas. His real name was Jimmy. It seemed that once dad met Dean, everything changed." She grew quiet and looked at Dean then. "He saved you though, and he was a hero. Jimmy was a hero."

"Yes, Claire. He was."

Charlotte watched the moment pass between them with great interest, then she said, "So is that how you're related?"

Claire turned her attention to Charlotte. "Well, I won't call Dean dad. I'll call him gramps and steal all of the food in his fridge, but the title never felt right. I mean, just 'cause he loved my dad, doesn't make him dad number two or anything." She turned her attention back to Dean then and saw the look she was getting. It made her smile wider.

Charlotte asked, "So how long were you two together, Dean?"

Dean didn't answer right away. He just kept glaring at Claire. He finally looked back at Charlotte and said, "Off and on for four years." Claire smiled bigger when she heard his response.

"What happened to him?"

"We believe that he's dead." Claire reached over and took Dean's hand. It was all too true, and Dean felt himself shaking a little. The memories were bubbling up to the surface and he was feeling powerless to settle it all back into place.

"You don't know for sure?" Charlotte asked.

"No, he would have made sure to have gone somewhere that we wouldn't know about. He made rash choices. He always thought that he was protecting us or something. One day he was with us, and the next he was gone. It's been a long time, so we can only assume how and what happened."

"I'm so sorry." It was sympathy and Dean didn't want it, but he understood Charlotte's need to give it. She directed her look to Claire then. "So, what made you decide Dean was worth keeping?" She smiled as she asked. "I mean, he is a grumpy cuss. Why keep in touch when you don't have to?"

Now Claire smiled at Dean. "I guess if Cas thought that he was worthy of love, who was I to argue. Plus, he's a good cook. I'll tolerate a lot if a good meal is part of the deal."

Dean got up abruptly and said, "I'll be back in a minute. Don't gossip about me too much while I'm gone." He covered the emotions that were threatening to overtake him, smiled a half grin, and rushed out of the cafeteria.

He got out into the quad and sucked in a big gulp of air. He felt like his lungs were doing double time. His heart was racing, and in the back of his mind he was seeing Lucifer wearing Cas, mocking him, Lucifer twisting everything out of shape. He watched Cas fall and heard the last words all over again like it had just happened in that moment and not years before. He stumbled off behind the tall brick building next to the cafeteria. He bent over double and pressed his hands to his knees. He tried to get control of his breathing.

The space he was in was devoid of people. It was a little dark as it was shaded by the other looming building. _If I pass out here, it'll be hours before anyone finds me._ He focused on the ground, on the dark asphalt that made a path between the structures. He let out a sob. He didn't mean too, but everything hurt, and nothing was getting better. _Nothing will ever be better._ Then there was light, and the light was warm on him, a comfort in the dark space, a reminder that he was not alone.

His breathing became regular again. His lungs felt like they were no longer struggling to just work. He stood upright and focused on the light that was around him. He couldn't find a source. It just was. He knew that it was not coming from a reflection or directly from the sun, but he still needed to verify it. "What are you?" he whispered.

He did not get a response. He let the moments pass. He felt a measure of comfort that he hadn't felt in a long time, like a river was flowing around him on a calm summer day. He wondered what it could be. He knew he'd need to call Sammy. Even if it was good, he still had to know what it was. As suddenly as it had arrived, it disappeared. He waited a moment more, then decided to go back to Claire and Charlotte.

* * *

The day was good after that. Claire tried to apologize, but he brushed her off. "Just stop." He pulled her into his side and ruffled up her hair. She could have dropped him with a leg sweep, but she must have felt bad about lunch because she just let him do what he wanted. Charlotte left them at the courtyard, with a promise that she'd see Claire on Sunday. When she was well out of earshot, Dean asked, "Uh, what's happening on Sunday?"

"Church." Claire moved a little faster to get ahead of him.

"Oh, we really doing that?"

"Yeah, you heathen. We're really doing that." She turned and walked backwards toward his classroom. "I like her. She's nice."

"She is."

"I hope I didn't ruin any secret future plans you had with her." They stepped into the classroom, and Dean turned on the lights.

"Like I said before, it isn't like that with her, with anyone."

"You just want to stay single then?"

"Yeah. I'm good."


	5. Chapter 5

They survived the day. Claire even helped him grade some tests. They went home that night without Dean even once mentioning the experience he had had at lunch. Once they were back at the apartment though, he was reminded of the need to share.

"So, uh, at lunch."

"I'm really sorry, Dean. I don't know what I was thinking. I just keep..."

Dean cut her off, "Stop. I don't care about any of that."

"You don't care that I just outed you as my dad's gay boyfriend? Really? I've effectively ruined all of your hetero chances."

"Not sure if you noticed, but I work at a college. Pretty sure you just doubled my chances of scoring if I were even remotely interested in such a thing. Which, in case I haven't made it clear, I'm not. I've squandered my chances."

She looked concerned, "Is that what this is about?" She moved closer to him. "You don't think you deserve someone? You don't think that you deserve to be happy?"

"I didn't say that. I just said that I'm not looking for anything or anyone. This my life, and I don't want anything else."

"But you do though. You feel like you squandered your chances." He scowled at her and wondered why he couldn't just keep his mouth shut around her. "What chances did you squander?"

"You know." He felt like she was just doomed to getting that same answer for everything. He didn't feel guilty though. This was Claire and she did understand. He believed that maybe she understood better than anyone what he was feeling.

"I want to hear you say it."

He pushed past her into his room and slammed the door. He hadn't told her about the light. He took a deep breath and counted to ten. Then he lingered five minutes longer, because it just didn't seem long enough yet. He opened the door and emerged into the dark living room. Claire wasn't in sight. He rounded the kitchen and stepped into the dining room. He could see that the sliding glass door was open and Claire was outside on the little metal balcony.

She was staring up at the sky, drumming at the railing as she stood there. He stepped out into the cool night and stood at her side. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Shit, Dean. I think we're doomed to just keep pissing each other off at every turn."

"You just keep saying all of the right things." He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into a sideways hug.

"I miss him, Dean, and I just want to know that someone else missed him too. Sometimes I think that you're the only other one in the world that knows just how awful it all feels." He squeezed her tighter. "I'm sorry I push."

"Your dad was a good man."

"He was, but I was talking about Cas just then."

"I thought that you kinda resented him a little because of your dad and all."

"In the end I didn't. He and I talked almost every day. I prayed my end of the conversations and when he could he'd text back responses. I think that he cared about me a great deal."

"He did." Dean leaned over a little and pressed a small kiss to her forehead.

"It was different from what he had with you, but it still made me feel special to be cared for by someone like him. He was infinite and here I was, a teenager, and he cared enough to talk to me and listen to me."

"He always regretted taking Jimmy away from you. He didn't understand what he had done. It took him years to get it. When he did, it nearly ruined him."

"I still pray to him, ya know?"

"Why?"

She looked at him as she answered, "Because he's still the only one out there that I still have faith in."

"He can't hear us anymore."

"Do you still pray to him?"

"No."

Now Claire squeezed him back and said, "Maybe you should. It doesn't matter that he isn't around to hear you anymore. What matters sometimes is just the talking. Even if he can't hear us anymore, I think that he'd like to have us remember him a little even after all this time has passed."

"I think you're wrong. I think he'd want us to forget him and be happy." She tipped her head back and looked at him with one brow raised higher than the other. "He was an idiot though. He never seemed to get that he was a necessary part of the happiness equation."

"That idiot."

They fell silent then, but in the silence they prayed, and in the silence they felt peace.

* * *

Sam called him at the end of the week to basically harass him. "Dude, Alex is here. She said that you need to convince her to just come home already."

"Claire's a big girl. She can make her own choices." Dean noticed that Claire wasn't in the apartment though. He wondered where she was. It had only been a couple of weeks, but the place already felt empty without her in it.

"Dean, Alex said that she's being ridiculous. Apparently, they were on a hunt and Claire got like no sleep. Then she started seeing things and such. They showed up here and Claire got to reading the Carver Edlund books. Well, next thing you know and she's saying that she saw Chuck in the coffee shop and stuff. Alex is worried about her."

"You trying to say she's making it up? She's just seeing things? Is that it?" Dean felt the irritation rising into his tone.

"Well, Alex thinks Claire's been working too hard, taking on one too many hunts and such."

"She's not making it up, Sam."

"I don't know, Dean. Doesn't sound like anything I've ever encountered."

"I've seen it too, Sam. The light anyway. I haven't seen Chuck."

"What're you talking about?"

Dean sighed heavily and said, "There was this light. I saw it twice. One time it covered my bed in the night. The other time it surrounded me in a dark alcove next to one of the buildings on campus."

"How do you know it wasn't just a bit of moonlight or a reflection?" Sam asked.

"Gee, I don't know Sam. If only I knew someone with decades of experience with the supernatural to explain all of this to me." His voice took on the tone of a spiteful girl. "I haven't been out of the game for that long."

"Hey, sorry, man. I just thought that maybe you didn't check as well as you might have before."

"Well I did. Claire and I have been hitting the lore and whatever we can find online. By the way, good job on the digitizing. The bunker library is rather easy to search now."

"Been a labor of love, let me tell you." Now Sam let out a long sigh. "I'm kinda surprised that you and Claire haven't torn each other apart yet. Two weeks under the same roof might be a record for you two."

"Might be." Dean turned when he heard the door open. Claire walked in. "Look what the cat dragged in." She held out a Starbucks cup to him. He took it and gave it a little sniff. It smelled like spices. "What's this?"

"Chai. Drink it."

He groaned and gave it a little sip. "Too sweet."

"I know I am."

Dean turned his attention back to the conversation with Sam. "So you gonna look into this on your end too?"

"Yeah, I'll put Alex on it too. Really though, I think you should convince Claire to come back. I think that they had a fight and Claire's just using this research at your place to avoid Alex."

"I'll see what I can do. In the meantime, you do a little digging. Let me know what you unearth."

"Will do." With that Sam hung up. Dean moved to Claire's side.

"What's with the chai?"

"Thought you'd like to try something different since it's Sunday and we're going to church."

"Yeah, and you just wanted an excuse to go looking for Chuck at the coffee house huh?"

"Maybe. No sightings."

"Just so you know, coffee is my cup of tea. Don't get why people like this." He wandered with it though, back to his room.

Claire called after him, "Wear something nice. Add a tie."

"Why? Is it that kind of church."

"Out of respect for Charlotte. Also, you never know who might be there to impress."

Dean poked his head back out of his room and looked at her. "Pretty sure I made it clear that I'm not interested in any of that." Claire looked like she was going to pursue this line of conversation so Dean went on, "By the way, Alex is at the bunker with Sam. He told me that you two had a fight and that I should convince you to go home."

Claire's mouth tightened into a solid, flat line. "Yeah, what'd you say?"

"Told him you were a big girl, and you could make your own choices. They're looking into the light and Chuck sightings now."

"Oh, so she believes me now. Nice." Claire sounded like she was just about to go off, but then she shut it down. "Wear a blue tie." She turned away from him and walked out onto the balcony.

Dean felt the smile come on slowly. _Well, my work here is done._

* * *

The church was not too ornate. It had the typical high ceilings and the front was adorned with an empty cross. There was stained glass, but it was only at the front. The light that passed through it was in hues of blue, red, and green. They met Charlotte there and she got them to the middle of the space. The pews were reasonably comfortable. Dean looked around. They were not far enough in the back, the I'm late-guilt-seats. They also weren't close to the front either in the I'm-a-guilty-sinner-seats. They were in the comfy middle.

Charlotte leaned over to him as the music began. It wasn't time to sing or anything, but the music told those in the outer hall to get on inside. "That's the Reverend Carmichael. He's the one that I was consulting with on the sermon."

Dean followed her gaze to a good looking, dark-haired man sitting off to the side. His white button-up was just tight enough to show the hard lines of muscles in his shoulders and back. He couldn't see his face as he had his back to the crowd. "You doing more than sharing sermon advice with him?" Dean winked at her, but got a scowl back.

"We're in church, jerk."

"Oh, sorry, Charlotte."

Then she laughed at him. "Gotcha." It took Dean a moment to catch up. "I'm pretty sure my efforts on that front would be moot. Maybe I could live vicariously through you though."

Dean was trying to follow her when the reverend got up and approached the pulpit. He had high cheekbones and a piercing brown-eyed gaze that swept over the crowd. His complexion spoke to hours of outdoor activity. His lips curled up into a smile as his eyes passed over their section of the church. Dean finally decided to reply to Charlotte, "Not interested."

"You sure about that?" she whispered.

He looked at her and said, "Stop." She just laughed and he found himself smiling back just a little.

* * *

It was an interesting sermon. Claire leaned forward like she was eating it all up or maybe her back was hurting. The reverend wove a story that began with the ancients believing that our fates were all decided. He talked of the way that the greatest honor was to be placed in the starry sky after a life well-lived. It was a place for heroes and gods and any great thing of note.

Dean felt himself sliding forward a little to be closer to the words. The reverend added though, "Yet despite their place in the stars, we still view the sky as a place that tells the story of fate. It is where our lives are written and woe be unto anyone who thinks that they can defy that narrative."

Dean glanced at Charlotte and whispered, "You have anything to do with this part?"

"Maybe a little," she whispered back.

Dean went back to listening. "And one has to wonder why anyone would want an eternity hanging in the sky as a constellation. What is it about this _honor_ that made so many tales seem richer? How many stories have you read from the ancient myths that end with the hero or god or creature being set in the sky to look down on humanity for time immortal? Yet that is what they looked to, and it got me wondering. Why?"

Claire leaned into him a little, "You enjoying this Mr. Free Will?"

Dean whispered back, "He's gearing up for the free will bit."

The reverend said, "If they were placed in the stars maybe there, they could effect change, or maybe they could at least watch the ones they left behind, or maybe it was just about being watched. I thought about all of this and came away with more questions than answers. In the end, I realized that maybe there was no one right answer. I was trying to place just one motive, one goal, one aspiration onto everything, and in the end I realized that this was wrong."

Dean leaned into Charlotte now and whispered, "Well, that was not the direction I thought he'd take." Charlotte just smiled.

The reverend continued, "In our faith, and I say our faith knowing full well that even we come to it differently with many motives, goals, and aspirations..." He paused took a breath and started again, "In our faith, we place our dead in a metaphorical sky too. We call it heaven though. It is a place the artists of old depicted with clouds, and endless blue, the cute fat cherubs fluttering through it with harps at their hips. I don't suppose though that this is the vision of the afterlife that everyone in this room longs for. When pressed to define what we want, I imagine that each of you would have very different ideas of what makes for a rewarding paradise."

Claire leaned into Dean now and said, "Gotta wonder where he's heading with this, but it is interesting."

"Yeah," Dean said.

The reverend went on, "And it's the reward part that also struck me. Since the earliest days, mankind has viewed the sky as not just a place that they will ascend to upon death, but we have also viewed it as a place of reward. It is a place in which we will be granted the greatest wealth, celebrity, or peace, depending on one's desires. It is the place where we gain the things that we sacrificed or longed for while we yet lived. So, if I die, I expect a constellation to show up that looks like the Eiffel Tower. You all will know it's mine because I've been wanting to go to France for years, and I'll likely only get there via a heavenly reward." His tone shifted into the wistful, "Oh, fresh baguettes and eclairs...hmm."

The congregation laughed a little. "They should take up a collection for him to go to France," Dean said to Charlotte.

"Don't think they haven't tried. He just gave the money to someone else that he thought needed it more. He's like that."

"Rewards though," the reverend's words became the focus again. "Those are interesting, aren't they? We live better lives, kinder lives, more heroic lives, so that we might be rewarded in heaven. There we'll finally get that one thing that we never had here." He sighed and threw his arms up into an exaggerated shrug. "I wonder if it wouldn't be better if we just didn't have this concept that the best things are yet to come. I wonder if it would be best for all of us to just live our lives to the best of our abilities without all of these thoughts of heavenly reward."

"Interesting," Dean whispered.

"Maybe if we start thinking of the afterlife as just a continuation of our present lives, we might start living differently. What if we pass on and heaven is just our greatest hits on repeat? What if heaven is even simpler for some of us? What if it is just a whole lot of watching and waiting. For most, life is filled with calm moments. I wonder sometimes if heaven is that for some of us. So I didn't come to any great conclusions except this, the ancient storytellers placed their greatest heroes and even some of their villains in the starry sky seemingly to look down at us. Yet what really happened was they put them all there, regardless of the good or evil they may have done in life, they put them there to be seen and learned from. They are there for the living. Maybe heaven is that too. Maybe where we go after isn't the point. Maybe it's just the living as best as we can, because there's a whole world full of things that matter and need doing right here everyday."

He went into more, but Dean let his mind linger on the words a little. He wondered what he hoped for now. Heaven held no appeal for him. A promise was made to him years ago, that if he died again, that it would be permanent. He was ready for that, but he wondered what that would be took some comfort in the idea that he'd be sharing a fate that was not dissimilar to Cas' fate. After all, Cas never did think that there would be anything for him after death. _Just gone, or a hero in the stars,_ Dean thought.

The sermon ended and Charlotte elbowed him to get him moving. The reverend moved down the aisle to the outer vestibule to talk with the congregation as they left. As he passed their row, Dean could have sworn that the light from the windows seemed to follow him, giving him an extra golden glow that drew the eye.

After the reverend passed, they each got up, lost in their thoughts and made their way down the center aisle with the rest of the congregation. "Did it sound okay, Charlotte?" Reverend Carmichael asked as they drew near on their way out.

Charlotte answered, "It's always lovely. You added some nice ideas on purpose."

He turned his attention from Charlotte to Dean and Claire then, "I don't believe I've had the pleasure." His voice carried a hint of a southern drag in the accent. It hadn't been as apparent in the sermon, but it was there now in the vestibule with all of the pleasantries and the quiet murmurs of the surrounding conversations.

Dean took his hand in a shake and said, "Dean Winchester." He intended to make the handshake a quick one, all business and done. The reverend let it linger a little by adding a second hand over the shake.

"A pleasure to meet you. I believe that Charlotte has mentioned inviting you." He turned to Charlotte with a smile, and he seemed to glow a little more with the words.

Charlotte said, "I may have mentioned you a time or two."

The reverend released Dean's hand. He turned to Claire then and took her hand in the same way, "And you are?"

"Claire Novak." She was smiling at him. Claire usually reserved those looks for rare moments, yet here she was looking quite pleased.

The reverend released her hand and asked, turning from her to Dean and then back, "Did you find the sermon acceptable?"

Dean said, "It was not your typical fire and brimstone tent revival." He smiled and added, "So that made it just right by me."

The reverend looked to Claire then and she said, "I rather like the idea of imagining my father and mother in heaven. I never viewed it as much of a goal though. I suppose I will be thinking about your words a great deal as the days pass."

"Mission accomplished then."

Dean made a move to leave and had a hand on Claire's back to direct her. He said, "Well, thanks reverend. I'm sure we'll be back again."

He reached out to Dean then and said, "You can call me Paul."

"Oh, well okay then." Dean felt a little flustered as he and the others edged out of the vestibule to the bright sunshiny world outside. Dean leveled a gaze at Charlotte and said, "Okay, spill. What did you say to him about me?"

Charlotte blushed a little. "Nothing really."

Claire laughed now, "Oh man, this is gonna be great."

"Shut it, Claire," Dean said and then abruptly turned back to Charlotte. "What did you say?"

"I just talked about you and our friendship and maybe how you seemed sad sometimes and I maybe showed a picture of us from the mixer last semester." She looked off at the other side of the street and added under her breathe, "He may have said something general about your attractiveness."

"Charlotte." Dean started but didn't know what to say.

"He's also single, just saying." Charlotte glanced over at Claire then and Dean followed the gaze. He just scowled at her.

"What Dean. I'm just glad it wasn't me this time." Claire laughed. "Come on you two. Let's get Dean some coffee." Claire gave him a pointed look, then looped her arm up in his and pulled him off down the sidewalk. Charlotte fell into step at his side.

They got to the corner where a small coffee house resided. They went in and stared up at the chalkboard proclaiming the various flavors of espresso drinks. Everything was painted in crisp white. The room was large and nearly all of the tables were being used. The room was filled with the chatter of the many people and the little clinks and clatters of plates and coffee mugs. Charlotte said, "Get me a chai. I'll get a table."

Once she had gone off to find a table, Dean said, "You shouldn't encourage her."

"You shouldn't make it so fun."

"Are we here for coffee?" Dean stepped up to the counter and placed their order then looked to Claire for an answer as he fished out the money to pay for the drinks.

"I can't shake the fact that I saw him. I keep thinking that if I just keep looking for him, I'll find him again."

Dean shrugged and stepped off to the side to wait for their drinks. "I don't think it was Chuck." Claire looked suddenly irritated. "Not saying that I think you imagined it. I'm just saying that it was likely just someone that looked a lot like him. Besides, you've only seen him in whatever bad quality picture Sam had of him. I can't imagine that it was at all clear."

"It was a good picture. I know what I saw. Just don't doubt me Dean. I really just don't need another person that I care about doubting me." She looked sad, and Dean pulled her in by the shoulders and pressed a kiss into her hair."

"I believe you. If I didn't, I wouldn't question you. I'd just roll my eyes and focus on other things." Their order came up and Dean picked up two of the drinks, while Claire grabbed her own.

"For the record, the reverend was cute, but he's no Cas." He just gave her a raised brow and she continued. "I want you to be happy Dean. Would it kill you to just grab a bite with the guy?"

He smiled at her and said, "It might. Of course with my luck it would more likely kill him. I'm really not interested." They were almost to the table when Dean threw out, "Plus it wouldn't be fair to him. He's not Cas."

They sat and Charlotte said, "So, did you like the sermon? Did it mesh with your sciencey self?"

Dean said, "Yeah, it was interesting. I don't feel like he had a gut punch point at the end like most preachers do. It felt more like a conversation."

"I know. All of his services are like that. Plus, if you talk to people afterwards about the sermon, everyone will have a different focus. It's like we all get different things out of it." She took a careful sip of her chai. "Like one time I was talking with Mel after a sermon on charitable service and she had a totally different take on the thing."

"What do you mean?" Clare asked.

"Well, it was like I heard a sermon on charity and she heard a service on just a general topic of basic human kindness. On the surface they are not different topics, but she really did not hear the same message I did. Funny thing too, it happens all of the time."

Dean perked up a little and asked, "So today's sermon was about living without the goal of rewards in heaven, right?"

Charlotte cocked her head to the side and said, "Uh, kinda. Is that what you got from it?"

"Yeah, and he talked about the stars and such." Dean glanced over at Claire and then back at Charlotte.

"Yes, he did do that. He just has this way of dropping in so many little extras that everyone hears differently is all. It's nice, way better than when he first started out."

"What do you mean?" Claire asked.

"Well, about a year ago the church was talking about letting him go. I mean we all liked him, but he had a very dull delivery. We weren't getting much out of him. then, like overnight he became some sort of uber preacher. Can't believe we almost let him go." Charlotte took another careful sip of her chai.

Claire looked over at Dean and asked, "So, when did you move here, Dean?"

It took Dean a moment to catch onto the purpose of the question. He answered, "About a year ago." He gave her a look that said, _We'll talk about this later._

Claire said, "I can't believe you've been out here a year now."

"Sometimes feels like it has been longer." He glanced around the room, taking a drink from his coffee cup while he did so. That was when he saw him. He almost choked on the drink. Sputtering, he lowered the drink to the table. "I'll be right back."

"Where're you going?" Charlotte asked.

"I think I see someone I know, someone I haven't seen in a long time." Claire started to get up then too. Dean waved her back down. "I'll be right back."

He got up and moved to the stairway that went up to the loft seating area. You could see the people up there from down below, but he hadn't really looked up there until that moment. He took the stairs two at a time. When he got to the top, he just stood there, staring across the space at the man sitting near the edge of the loft. He had an old laptop in front of him and a steaming cup of coffee. Dean approached him. When he got to the edge of the table, he didn't know what to say so he just stood there staring down at the man that he had known as Chuck and God, and occasionally Carver Edlund. He looked up at Dean without a moment's pause and said, "Hello, Dean."


	6. Chapter 6

There were many things that he was prepared for, passive greetings weren't what he expected though. He found himself sitting across from him, confused, then irritated, then utterly lost. "Chuck?" He finally had to ask, because although the man did not have the air of the almighty, he might be donning a humble countenance for the heck of it.

"Yeah, don't tell me you already forgot me." He closed his laptop lid and waited.

"What are you doing here?" Dean didn't know where to begin. There were so many other questions, like where have you been, how are you alive, are you God?

"I'm subtly following you and looking for God."

"Uh, why?"

"Well, it is certainly good to see you too. Always nice to run into a fellow man of words." Chuck rolled his eyes and said, "Why do you think? Took me forever to track you here. Finally just followed Claire."

"And you're looking for God?"

"Yes. I feel like he might need me soon. Not sure though. He got tossed out of my form after, well, you know." He looked off like he felt guilty. "Sacrifices were made all around that day. Been having a few odd prophetic moments since then, but nothing like before. Figured I'd find you and give you the latest from the Winchester stories. Thought you might want to get some information on what's to come."

"I'm out, Chuck. I don't do the supernatural thing anymore."

"Yeah, picked up on that from the prophecy line. Pretty sure you're back in it. Felt any weird presences lately?"

"Yeah, a weird light thing, don't know what it is though."

"I don't either, but it's important. I think I might get something on it soon."

Dean got up then. "You're coming back to the apartment. Claire and I will need to talk with you some more."

"Gotta spare bed?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Good. Let me get a siesta first and then I'll talk your ears off." Chuck got up and packed his laptop, downing the last of his coffee in a single long gulp. "Well, let's go."

They introduced Chuck to Charlotte and said he was an old writer friend that they both knew from way back when. Chuck filled in the gaps with some random information, and Dean cut off the visit not long after so that they could head home. He promised Charlotte that they'd get together after classes on Tuesday.

Chuck was quiet, apparently deciding that he was not going to share even a tiny morsel until after his _siesta_. Dean gave up his bed and sat out at the dining room table with Claire once Chuck had sealed himself away.

"So, that's Chuck right?" Claire asked.

"Yeah, I asked. Not God." Dean glanced back at the bedroom door. "I don't know what to ask him. Like, seriously, it has been years. What has he been doing?"

"I know. He must know some things. You got to ask him something right?"

"He said he was looking for me and for God. Said he followed you in order to find me. Honestly, I think there's more to this than he's letting on. I mean, it's not like I've been hiding. And wouldn't he have like a direct line to God?"

"I don't know. It's weird." Now Claire threw a glance at the bedroom door. "Dean, God is literally sleeping in your bed." She made a face and asked, "How clean are your sheets?"

"I totally gave God's holy vessel a clean bed,Claire." He folded his hands together on the table in front of him.

"Dean?" She looked like she was thinking about a million things at once.

"What is it?"

"You think he might be able to tell us some things about what happened after..."

"I don't know."

"But what if he knows what happened to Cas?"

"We know what happened to Cas. He died. Lucifer wore him, and used him up, and burned out his grace. Chuck ain't gonna tell us a damn thing we don't already kinda know."

He got up then and Claire reached out to him saying, "But Dean, he might. He might know of a way that we can get Cas back. He might know of a way that we can get God to help."

"It's been years, Claire, years. If God wanted to help Cas out, he'd have done it by now." He moved off to balcony to get a breath of fresh night air.

"Maybe we should have just a little faith for once. Maybe we got a chance here."

"I'm not gonna get my hopes up, and Claire, you shouldn't either. That much faith in good things happening, just leads to all of the hurt. It's hard to get up from that kind of let down. For me, it was almost impossible. If it wasn't for Sam, I wouldn't have bothered."

* * *

Dean made sure to stay out on the balcony for as long as possible. He made a point of glancing back every now and then to see if Claire had finally gone to sleep. He wasn't sure where he'd sleep since Chuck had seemingly taken over his room, and his couch was Claire's now.

When the moon was high up in the sky, he decided to settled into a sitting position, back against the wall. He looked up to the stars, searching for Denab and the cross. He found it and stared long at the brightest point of light there. "Cas." It was as close to a real prayer as he had given in a long time. The other night with Claire had been a night of silent prayerful contemplations. That was different though.

He took pride in keeping it together. He was every kind of hurting, yet he managed to keep it from spilling out. He kept it from pulling him under. He whispered again, as if he were afraid that someone else would hear him, "I know you can't hear me. I know you're gone, but if Claire's right..." He stopped pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes to stop the tears there. "If you're there, if you can hear me, I'd give anything to get you home."

He seemed to think about what he was going to do next then. "And God, if you even care, I don't need a reward or any kind of acknowledgement for anything I've done in this life, but if you could just give Cas his life back, I'd never ask for anything more."He closed his eyes then and sank further down to the balcony floor. His back was pressed up against the rough brick wall of his apartment. He could feel the warmth again, the comfort that came from the light. He chose not to open his eyes for confirmation. It was better to just sit there and feel the serenity of it. He didn't know what he did to deserve this type of haunting, but he was okay with it.

* * *

The dream was a warped version of a memory. It was one he had experienced before. Dean had a firm grasp on what the real situation had been, but he had not chosen to dwell on it much. It was better to imagine that he had been brave once where Cas was concerned. It was better to imagine that he had actually told him all of the things that he had been silently living with for years.

The dream always began in the same way. Cas was in Sam's room, wrapped up in blankets, watching Netflix. He looked like he had been beaten down by the universe, his eyes sad and tired stared back at Dean. The moment always felt like something profound. Dean came into the room and hovered at his side before talking to him. The talk was always the same, how are you, are you feeling better, can I get you anything, more blankets...

This time Dean hovered a moment before jumping ahead and telling Cas to scoot over. He did, and Dean wormed his way into the bed next to him to watch the random program with him. Dean still had a cut near his forehead. Cas stared at it a little. He could hear him asking if he could heal it even though he wasn't speaking with words.

Dean leaned a little toward him, increasing the pressure of their bodies against each other. He dipped his head to Cas' shoulder and said, "I'm so sorry, Cas."

"What do you have to be sorry over? I'm the one that hurt you."

"I've brought you down. I've beaten and threatened you. I've caused your separation from heaven and all of your brethren. You've gained nothing good from knowing me."

Cas shrugged him away so he could look him in the eyes. "You are wrong about that."

"Name one good thing, Cas."

"I learned what it is to be truly heroic, to be kind, to be selfless. I have learned many good things from you Dean."

"Yeah, pretty sure you got most of that from Sam."

"No, you." Now he leaned his head down onto Dean's shoulder and stared off at the screen. "I wish you could know what you are worth. You only seem to see the negative."

"There's a lot of negative."

"No."

And here was the point that Dean regretted. He could have changed their path. He could have made so much clear to Cas, but he didn't. In his dream though, he fixed the mistakes of the past. "I hope you know what you are worth," Dean said.

"I am helpful when I am not so pathetic. I will get my strength back soon though, and I'll be of service to you and Sam again."

Now Dean shrugged him away and looked at him. "You know that grace or not, you matter to us, right?"

"I do have a vast store of knowledge even if I lose my grace. I imagine that a few thousand years of existence can be useful." He smiled at Dean as he said it.

Dean could feel Cas' hand along the back of his own. He moved a bit and took it in his, giving it a squeeze for good measure. "You could lose all of that knowledge too and you'd still be worth plenty."

"Well, all life is sacred, I suppose."

"Do I need to spell it out to you, man?"

Cas tipped his head to the side and seemed intent on reading him. "You seem upset, so maybe you do."

"You matter, Cas. Just you with all of your quirky ways, and all of what just makes you, you. Sam and I care about you. I care about you. You could be a human, an angel, an amnesiac, for all I care. I would care about you. You would be worth much to me."

Cas seemed to weigh the words carefully, then said, "Thank you, Dean. You too are worth much to me as well." He squeezed Dean's hand back. "Let me heal your injuries."

"Only if you promise that you won't think that I only want you around for your mojo."

Cas smiled at that, "I promise." He reached out to Dean then and settled his free hand on Dean's cheek. His thumb brushed over Dean's temple and back into his hair. He could feel the grace flowing into him. It was peaceful and warm. He leaned into the touch and also a little forward, toward Cas. He brought his free hand up and settled it over Cas'. He settled his forehead onto Cas' and breathed in the air that was warm between them.

"I'm in love with you." He watched the flicker of a muscle at the edge of Cas' eyes. "I don't expect you to feel the same. I know that it's different for angels."

"It's not." He became silent a moment then added, "Different." Dean ran his hand down Cas' arm. "Clearly, my affection for you is not what most angels choose to feel, yet it is there. Angels have the capacity to love, yet they don't often let themselves. It is dangerous to love a human. Yet, I do and have for some time. I regret many of my choices, but I'll never regret my feelings for you."

Dean closed his eyes then and pressed his lips to Cas'. Cas slipped his hand back into Dean's hair and pulled him closer. Dean lived in the closeness of it. He let it last and linger. The moment was a dance of lips parting in sync, tongues tasting, and hands clinging to each other for all either of them was worth.

It always ended the same way, with Dean pulling back to just look at Cas. The blue of his eyes was always the last thing to fade away. He loved him in dreams and knew what it was to be loved in return. He let himself have those moments, because they weren't hurting anyone but him.

Sometimes when he hated himself, he'd imagine Cas rejecting him. Sometimes when he was just overwhelmed by the immensity of his loss, he'd imagine Cas slipping away into death. In rare moments though, when he was content with life, he would imagine moments like this, where everyone was finally, blessedly on the same page.

Reality, though, is a spiteful little bastard. When Cas was back in the bunker, recovering from the attack dog spell that Rowena placed on him, he spent much of his time alone. Dean had asked after him, had been concerned about him, had even offered up what creature comforts that he could. He did not though, crawl into bed with him, hold his hand, or tell him that he loved him, though he wanted to do so more than once.

He didn't feel that he deserved any joy from Cas. He didn't feel like he could live with the possibility of a pitying look or kind rejection either. It was possible that Cas felt love for him in the way that he was commanded to by God. It was also possible that he felt something more, but Dean talked himself out of exploring the possibility every time an opportunity arose.

Instead, he let time pass, and in the end Cas was lost to him in all ways. He was beautiful even in death. Dean held him close, pressed his lips past his hair to the solidness beneath it. It was the only kiss Dean could give him, and Cas wasn't there anymore to reciprocate it.

Sam eventually got Dean to let him go. He eventually got him to stand and move from the space. He didn't stand long though. His legs gave out, and he was unable to move without help. Sam helped, and took care of Cas. Dean, for his part, left not long after for his year of suffering.

In the end, Sam saved him, but sometimes Dean thought that it would have maybe been better if he had not.

He awoke out on the balcony a few hours later, sore and cold. He was not alone. Chuck was sitting out on the balcony too. "You're awake."

"Yeah, you too." Dean started to moved, but shooting pains sliced through every muscle. "I'm not giving you my bed tonight. I don't care if you are God."

"I'm just Chuck. Besides, I'm done sleeping." He got up and reached down to Dean to pull him up. "Come on. We got stuff to talk about, and you need to make me some coffee."

Dean felt the creak of bones and the agony of pain in every muscle as he got up. The balcony would never be his bed again if he could help it. They slipped into the house. Claire was still asleep on the couch because it was stupid early.

Dean set up the coffee and the burble of it was enough to perk him up into wakefulness. When it finished, he poured them both a mug and sat at the table. Chuck looked anxious. His hands held onto the mug like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. "So, how've you been, Dean?"

"Is that how this is gonna go? We gonna start with small talk?" Dean rolled his eyes and said, "Fine, Chuck. You?"

"Sorry, I just don't know where to begin. I mean, it's been years, man."

"Yeah, it has. So let's not waste anymore time. You said you were looking for me and God. Well, one out of two. Why were you looking for me?" Dean sounded gruff and businesslike with each clipped sentence.

Chuck didn't drink his coffee. He just sat there staring into its darkness. "I'm sorry Dean. I mean, about Cas and all of that."

"Shit happens." It was an understatement, but Dean didn't want to have this conversation with anyone, least of all Chuck. He repeated, "Why were you looking for me?"

"After shit went down with Lucifer, God left me, but I remembered everything. Cas said something to him, but God kept me from hearing it. Then Lucifer was back in charge. Then God was taking care of business."

"Yeah, Chuck, I was there. Get to the point."

"I woke up in a strange field, far from where we were. It was like I had been dropped there from a tornado or something. I had to get my bearings. Couldn't even remember who I was at first. Over time, little bits came back to me." He paused and took a first tentative drink from his mug. "Then the prophecies came back."

"Great. We heading toward another apocalypse?"

"No. These are strange. Not annihilation strange, but strange like I don't know what I'm seeing."

"Well, describe it."

Chuck got up instead and went off to Dean's room. He came back with some paper. "So I tried to write about it, but I wasn't getting it. Then I figured maybe I could draw it." He handed over the paper to Dean.

"Oh god, Chuck. What the Hell is this?"

"I never claimed to be an artist." The image was of a many-headed creature. Its back held a collection of wings. Chuck's _skill_ made the creature look like something out of a nightmare. The eyes all drooped down and the hands looked like claws. "It was actually pretty in my head."

"Well, keep your day job, buddy. This is not pretty. What is it?"

"Not sure. I thought maybe it was an angel in its trueform. I really can't say though. Then I started feeling a call like something was grabbing me by the back of the neck and pulling me somewhere."

"And that's why you started looking for me.'

"Yeah. Only I didn't exactly travel toward you like normal people do. I also don't think that I was always being pulled to you."

'Well what was pulling you then?" Dean was trying to follow this, but Chuck was not sticking to much of a narrative. _Guy's losing his writer's touch._

"That's where I think that God comes in." Chuck took another gulp of the coffee. "I think that he is stuck between dimensions or something. He didn't come back to me after the battle, and he hasn't been able to give me a solid bit of prophecy. Like I said before, I just get bits and pieces. So, I think that he was trying to get me to you so that you can help me help him."

"How could you possibly help God?"

"I'm his vessel, like all prophets. Maybe I can draw him back to earth."

"Or maybe he's just fine where he is. He didn't have much to contribute for the last so many years so why should we be concerned about his issues now?" Dean was done. His tone showed it.

"Maybe he's not done with us yet. Maybe he has more that he'd like to do to help. He did help, Dean. If it weren't for him, we wouldn't have won before."

"Funny thing. What you call winning feels an awful lot like losing. Bet Cas would agree if he could." Dean got up and made an attempt at leaving the room. He stopped at the window to the balcony and stared up at the sky.

Chuck came to his side and rested a hand on his shoulder. "What if that's why he wants to come back? What if he feels like he didn't finish things?"

"Like what?" Dean turned to him for an answer, but before he could give one, Chuck's head tipped back and a bright white glow filled the space around them. "Chuck!" His shout got Claire up, that or maybe the light.

She was at his side in an instant. "What the Hell is happening?"

"I don't know. He just started doing that." Dean had his arm in front of her. He couldn't look at the light directly. As suddenly as it came on the light disappeared.

Chuck fell to the floor in a heap of limbs. Dean quickly fell to the floor at his side and scooped him up. "Chuck, Chuck. You okay?" His eyes shot open and he shoved himself away from Dean, crawling to the bathroom. They could hear him throwing up in there. "Chuck?"

There was more vomiting. Then he came out and moved back into Dean's room. He got the laptop bag and brought it to the table. He set it up in a manner that seemed almost mechanical. He set his hands on the keys and began typing furiously. He did not respond and he did not look at either of therm. Claire walked over to Chuck's side of the table and peered over his shoulder at what he was writing. "Dean," she whispered.

He moved to Chuck's opposite side to look over Chuck's other shoulder. There were coordinates and then directions. He glanced at Claire then and shook his head. "I can't go back there."

She reached out to him, cupping his face in her hand and said, "We have to."

"I can't do this. You don't understand."

"You have to, Dean, but you won't be alone."

Chuck was now typing a list of items. One of the items in the list was "a man of faith."

Dean looked at Claire and said, "That is so not me."

"Chuck?" Claire angled her head down at him in a nod.

"Maybe. He was a prophet after all. Somehow I don't think so though."

"What's it all mean? Is it a prophecy? Is it from God even?"

"We can't go in blind. We need to check into this. Looks like we now need to learn about weird spots of light, sites of apocalyptic battles, and why the heck Chuck is getting visions. Oh, and what all of these items will do if we bring them to said site." Dean ran a hand back up into his hair. "And I have a shit ton of work to do this week. They have finals coming."

Claire just looked at him like he was crazy. Maybe he was. He chose not to deal with it then though. Instead he went off to his room to catch a couple of hours worth of sleep that wasn't on a cold balcony. As he pulled the blankets over himself, he stared out the window at the sky and for just a moment, let himself hope. The stars seemed bright tonight.


	7. Chapter 7

In the morning, Dean dragged on some fresh clothes for the day and tossed off a casual greeting to Claire and Chuck, both of whom were already seated at the dining room table, laptops at the ready. The plan was that they would work their ways through the list of items on Chuck's list and also enlist the aid of Sam and Alex back at the bunker.

Claire had Sam on the phone, and tried to hand him off to Dean. "I really don't have time to chat about this right now. Let him know I'll talk to him later tonight." He grabbed his messenger bag full of lessons and student work and headed out the door. It wasn't that he didn't want to help. It was more about the worry that he felt at the deeper thoughts that the situation was stirring up.

He had gone to bed with a tiny bit of hope. And hope is a dangerous thing. He was accustomed to the many ways that his life would not work out. It was part of the reason why he had tried to get far away from the old hunting life. There was no winning in that life, only varying degrees of losing. And he had lost enough.

But then everyone had to go and imply the impossible. None of them had said directly that God might want to save Cas, restore him to life or whatnot, but that had been the implication, and it had been enough for Dean to suddenly feel the old dangerous hope springing up in his chest.

 _So, I could lose everything all over again. So what if we've all misinterpreted the signs. Wouldn't be the first time. I'll deal. I'll just drink again, let it just have me. I'm pretty sure this will all go down like it always does. Shit, Sam won't be able to deal with me like that again. Shit, shit, shit._ He wanted to hope. Hope was a thing that he use to have in spades. It was a thing that connected him to Ca _s._

 _He'd fight for me. He'd let himself hope, and he'd fight to the bitter end if it meant saving me._ Dean drove to the campus with these thoughts and hardly paid attention to the world outside. He was rushing across the courtyard, not late, but not early either when his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out and noticed that Sam's name was splashed across the screen. He sent the call to voicemail.

Some of his students were already gathered outside the class. Charlotte wasn't there to entertain them so he knew that he wasn't horribly late yet. He set up his notes on the podium as the rest of the class trickled in. He was going to talk about Jupiter and its moons. He had some slides and extensive notes for them, but his heart wasn't in the lecture.

The last of the students trickled in, looking tired. It was the end of the term. He had mere weeks left to get them ready for the final. Instead of lecturing though, he said, "How about we all go to the planetarium for the day?" This seemed to perk them up. "A change of scenery is always a good thing. Plus, you all don't get to see enough of what I'm talking about. You can be my guinea pigs. I have a new show that I've been putting together."

They left the classroom and ventured over to the planetarium. Dean pull out his keys and opened the place up, ushering the students in. It was funny how just a slight change in routine could set them all in such a different mood. He reflected on how the same was true for him. He noted with a smile how one month of living with Claire had altered him so much. He was not muddling through as he was before. Instead he was consciously making his decisions each day because she was part of them. He thought, not for the first time, that he'd have been proud to have called her his daughter.

He shook his head as the last student entered, clearing away the cobwebs of random thoughts, and entered the room. He would play the show and provide the narrative for what they were seeing. It would be very different from a lecture, but they'd likely remember the information better, so he felt good about the change of plans.

Once everyone was settled, he started the program. The lights slowly went dark, and he took a moment to stare up at the ceiling and the stars that appeared out of nowhere. He was always sure to include Denab. One of his students said, "Mr. Winchester, is that the swan constellation that you told us about, the one that is also a chicken and a cross?"

"Yes, Judy."

"You said that in the chicken story the constellation represented a woman separated from her love."

"No, that was a separate myth from the chicken one. That was the story of the Weaver Girl and the Cowherd. Denab forms a bridge that allows them to see one another once each year."

Judy replied, "Oh yeah, I remember now. Like Pirates of the Caribbean."

"Yeah, Judy. Just like that." The class laughed a little, Judy too. Dean let the rest of the sky fill in while he stared at Denab remembering Cas' luminous voice as he told him the story of it. Dean closed his hand at his side and imagined the firmness of Cas' hand there in his own. Jupiter appeared above them, and Dean began his lecture on the planet.

* * *

"There once was a young woman of immeasurable beauty," Cas' voice was low as he began his tale. Dean was laying back on the hood of the Impala with his head pressed in close to Cas.

"So she was like a total ancient hotty?" Dean laughed.

"Do you wish to hear the story?" Cas sat up a little and Dean regretted the loss of contact between them almost immediately.

"Yes. Tell me about the immeasurably beautiful woman." Cas settled back down and Dean nuzzled in closer, pressing his head into the space between Cas' neck and shoulder. He could do this, because he had told himself that it was cold outside, and Cas was a giant furnace. Furthermore, it was just easier to hear his stories when he was closer.

Cas let out a long- suffering sigh, but he did continue. "Her hair fell around her face in dark cascades like blessed night after a long day." He sat up again but only a little. He tucked his arm up under himself and looked down at Dean. "Her eyes were likely the very thing that made them all view her with such heady admiration. They were like stars captured so perfectly."

Dean felt himself leaning in closer, craving the contact that he had lost when Cas sat up again. "What color were her eyes?" He only asked because Cas had grown silent when he moved closer.

Cas' hand was close to his. He had held his hand earlier, but somehow they had lost that contact over the hours that they had spent out under the stars. Cas tipped his head a little and stared at him with great intensity. "Let's say that her eyes were green. Let's say that they held flecks of golden sunlight in them, and that they were a world of deep earthy magic."

"You don't remember what color they were?"

"I just said that they were green."

"Yeah, but you sounded like you were making it up." Dean moved minutely closer again.

"Many of the details will be made up, but the general tale is not of my creation. The original tale is rather old by human standards." Cas let his hand run up Dean's arm a little. It was an affectionate move that made Dean's skin prick up in a type of pleasure.

"So there was an immeasurably beautiful woman with magical, starry eyes, that are also green or some color that you are totally making up for aesthetic purposes." Dean grinned as he said it and added, "So continue."

"You are sometimes irritating." Cas' fingers traced a line back and forth on Dean's upper arm. The touch was gentle and calming. "In some stories, her name was Vega. In others she was Qi Xi. In others she was Abhijit. She is one of many names. She was in some stories depicted as a fallen eagle or vulture."

Dean raised an eyebrow and asked, was she an angel?"

"No." Then he seemed to think about his answer a little more and added, "Well, I suppose anything is possible."

"What made you say no?"

"Well, it is just uncommon for an angel to behave as she behaved." Cas' hand noticeably slipped away.

"Too bad I don't know the rest of the story. I might be able to weigh in on this."

Cas rolled his eyes and said, "Well, her behavior was rather human."

"Okay, tell me about the immeasurably beautiful, green eyed human that was most definitely not an angel." Dean laughed a little at Cas as he said it.

Cas' hand came back to Dean's arm and the absent minded tracing that he was doing there. "She was born into a family of exceeding wealth and heritage. She was loved by her mother and father who had both planned an impressive future for her. Marriage was certainly part of that future, and her husband would be a man of exceptional pedigree. She would bring honor to him and to her parents in this union. All was fated to greatness. Then…"

Dean interrupted, "She met someone else."

"Yes, she did." Cas sighed again and continued. "He was a young man of such low station as to have never been noticed by anyone of her rank. However, he was attractive and kind, so this changed the trajectory of her fated course. He was a mere cowherd. He had no business with a woman such as her. Yet somehow, they found each other and the rest is history."

Cas seemed to be done with the tale, so Dean asked, "Is that it?"

"That is the part that I know. They fall in love, have some children, and end up in the stars. The end is tragic."

"That is not how you tell a story. You were doing so well too."

"You were complaining when I made up details before."

"Well, I've changed my mind. Make up some more details for me, Cas." Dean reached out his own hand and traced a line up Cas' arm now. Cas glanced at it and then back at Dean's face.

"Fine." Cas took a deep breath and continued, "She saw him from the high window of her family's estate. He was working in the field. He was filthy and course. She watched him day after day under the oppressive heat of the sun. He toiled and yet he did not complain. The life he seemed to be living was torture, she thought. She had been pampered and treated like a princess, for there was not much difference between her station in life and that of royalty. So she viewed his life of toil and labor as the stuff of horrors. How could anyone want to live that way?" Cas leaned in closer and rested his chin on Dean's head.

"Comfortable?"

"Yes, I was getting tired."

"Oh, I'll understand if you want to sleep. I could take you home."

"No, I want to stay here."

"Okay then."

Cas continued, "So she ventured down to the pasture intent on speaking with him. She would endeavor to understand his life, and if possible to elevate him from his current station. When she got to him, he was covered in mud and sweat. She should have been put off by him, but she wasn't. He was a handsome creature, for being a peasant, and a lowly one at that." Dean thought for a moment that Cas had kissed his head. He felt a shift in pressure near where Cas' chin rested. He focused instead on the words and decided that he was letting his imagination run away with him.

"Did she speak with him?"

"She did." Cas' answer breathed through Dean's hair. "She asked him if he enjoyed his work." Dean continued to trace lines on Cas' arm, and Cas did the same. "He told her that work of his sort was just part of being human." Cas seemed to pause then, like he had misspoken. "It was his lot in life. He answered her graciously. She spoke with him for some time about the life that he lived, the world that he was making for himself. When she left him to return to her room high up in her family's estate, she felt like she had been wholly wrong about the nature of her class and his. She wanted to learn more about him. She wanted to see more of his life."

"Did she go back to him again?" Dean asked.

"Many times. Their acquaintance spanned years. He came to mean a great deal to her. One might even say that she loved him with such a degree and scope of love that one could never match it in any tale from any land in any time."

"Did he love her back?"

"He seemed to love her as well, though he had trouble displaying that love. You see, it was not acceptable then for one of her station and one of his to marry, let alone to choose with whom they would marry. So, he was incapable of sharing his feelings openly for Qi Xi as he had been raised to view such feeling for her as wrong."

Dean shifted a little as he thought about the story and what Cas was telling him. "He should tell her."

"He was merely doing what he thought he must. His lack of action did not diminish the depth of his feelings for her. More importantly, his lack of action did not reduce her love for him either. In fact she may have loved him more for his timidity." Dean thought that he had felt the gentle press of Cas' lips to his head again. He tried to focus on the spot. He wasn't sure if it would matter, but if he felt it again, he thought that he might feel motivated toward actions of his own.

"In your version of the story, will he tell her that he cares for her, or that he at least needs her?"

"Perhaps." Cas sounded a little pleased with himself for creating a story that Dean liked. He continued, "One day when she found him out in the distant pasture at the end of a long day, he finally spoke with her about all that weighed heavy on his heart. He first told her that she was as close to him as his own family. He told her that he felt a need for her that surpassed all understanding. He was a strong man, capable of great and noble feats, yet here he was standing before her shaking because she was beautiful and, he thought, too good for him." Cas stopped tracing lines on his arm and let his hand just rest there on his bicep, warm and solid.

"What did she say?"

"At first she was afraid. She didn't say anything. What could she do? Her family had plans for her. Yet here was everything that she never dared to want for herself. She tried to quell her worries and all of the doubt that was threatening to overtake her. He looked long at her, his hands clenched at his sides. He broke the silence between them by saying quite simply, I need you. I love you."

Dean heard the words to the story like they were directed at him. His own hand settled on Cas. Their posture was rather intimate. They appeared to be hugging on the hood of the Impala. Dean smiled into Cas' neck and asked, "What did she do?"

"She couldn't do anything, so she left."

Dean sat up, "Huh? What do you mean she left. He said he loved her and needed her, and she just left?"

"Yes."

"But then she came back, right?"

"This story seems to be upsetting you, Dean. Maybe I should tell you the tale of Ursa Major instead." Cas looked a little weary.

"No, I want to hear about fucking Qi Xi and the cow dude. I also want some fucking resolution here, not this 'she left' bullshit."

"What if that is just how the story ends though?"

"It doesn't end like that Cas."

"Maybe it does."

"Well, since you're making it up, I expect a better ending, a happy ending."

"Life isn't happy. People love each other and leave each other. People want desperately to stay with the ones that they love and the world tears them apart." Cas sounded angry then. He looked off to the sky and the stars stared defiantly back at him. "She loved him desperately. She loved him completely and so deeply that she thought that nothing in the world would ever matter so much as him. She left him in that field though and marched right back to her estate. She knew that loving him and telling him of that love would only lead to pain for him."

"He would disagree."

"He would?"

"Absolutely."

Cas seemed to lose some of his earlier fervor. He said, "She grew despondent in her home, far from him. She took to spending long chunks of her day in solitude. Some days she watched him, unbeknownst to him. He tended to the cows and the other creatures in the pasture. She told herself that in time she'd be able to accept the world without him at her side. She was wrong."

"I knew it. She went back to him, right?" Dean didn't know why he was so happy with the turn of fictional events, but somehow it mattered a great deal to him. It felt personal.

"Actually, he came to her. Word had reached the general population of the young woman who lived in the rich man's estate. She had grown ill. She would neither eat nor drink. She was withering away, and none of the healers seemed to know what to do. Some said that she was cursed. This was why he came to her. He could not bear the thought that she would perish without seeing her just once more."

Dean settled back into the space at Cas' shoulder. Cas wrapped an arm around him. "So he marched right up into the estate and demanded to see her?"

"No, he was too clever for that." Cas laughed. "He snuck in during the dead of night with only the stars to witness. He found his way through the dark halls to her room. When she saw him, she thought that she was dreaming. How could he have found her? Why would he have even tried?"

"Because he loved her, damnnit," Dean interrupted again.

"Yes, he did, but she didn't understand what that would mean until he scooped her up and carried her away to his home."

"That's a brave- ass move right there."

"It is. She was brave to let him do that too. I imagine that she thought that he should just leave her there, move on with his potentially happy life. He didn't though. He came back for her, and she let him save her. They inevitably had to leave his home too. Too many people would look for them and eventually find them if they stayed."

"And they lived happily ever after?"

"Not exactly." Cas pulled in a deep breath. "They lived happily for many years. She loved him and he loved her in return. She gave him children, and he was an exceptional father. He was gentle with her, and taught her how to live as a hu...peasant." Dean caught the near slip but didn't say anything at first.

"And she taught him a few things too I bet."

"Yes." Cas' tone was a bit melancholy. "Eventually, when they had lived long enough in comfort and ease, when they had both come to assume that nothing could hurt them or separate them, the universe intervened in their happiness." Cas' hand came up to the back of Dean's neck and smoothed over the skin and hair there. "Her father found her, and made her return home. It did not matter that she had children. It did not matter that she loved so greatly. He had written her future out in solid shapes and lines. She was not going to be allowed to venture off into a world of her own making."

"He rescued her though, right?"

"No, she died." Cas paused like he expected Dean to complain or argue. When he didn't do either, Cas continued, "She once again stopped eating and drinking. She once again began withering away, yet this time, her family guarded the estate from her lover. This time he had truly lost her to the abyss that was her family's home. When she died, many people came to her funeral. They had heard the tale of her great love and tragic passing. Her family kept her children and her lover from the funeral. They were never acknowledged and they left the area without ever getting to say a proper goodbye."

Dean slipped his arm around Cas and held him. He didn't want that sort of end for the story. Such ends needed to be temporary. They had cheated death, so Qi Xi should too. Then he asked, "How did she end up in the stars?"

"All heroes end up in the stars."

"Was she a hero? All she did was die," Dean asked.

"She did far more than that. She loved. It is the greatest and oftentimes the most difficult thing one can do. When she died, her spirit was placed in the stars. Some say that her lover and children are there too, but that they only get to see each other once per year, on the seventh day of the seventh month. On that day a bridge is formed over the white river. And on that day they live as though it is all of time, and all in that moment is good."

"Why do they ever go back to their sides of the bridge?"

"They are stars now, Dean. They cannot control what they do. They are heroes though, and they hang above us, watching all of life. And briefly each year they are rewarded for all that they give to us. They get the greatest gift they could wish for. They get to watch humanity live, knowing that with all that watching no one can be hurt by them, nor can they be hurt. And more importantly maybe, they get to keep each other for an eternity."

It was late, and he would have to drive Cas home soon, or to the Gas-n-Sip. He didn't want to do that. He could see the distant pink glow of the horizon. He nuzzled into Cas' neck and breathed him in. "I suppose the end could have been worse. At least they get to have each other. They deserve more than one day though."

Cas carded his fingers through Dean's hair. Here they could be free with each other like this. Dean was fairly certain that Cas had pressed a third kiss to his head then. He didn't act on it though. He just let the feeling of it spread through him. He let it tip his mind into warmth and a bare hint of joy. He put off the thought that Cas would be pulled from him in the morning, letting this moment be eternal.


	8. Chapter 8

The week passed and Claire and Chuck had become quite comfortable with his home. They ate his food and camped out wherever they wished. Dean was craving a little space to himself when he came home to a note, hastily scrawled and left on the dining room table. _Gone out for burgers and brews. Text if you want some. -Claire and Chuck_

"Oh thank God," Dean muttered out to the empty room. He walked over to the stereo and turned on some music. He tossed his outer layers of clothing into his bedroom and went into the kitchen to make a sandwich. The week had been rough. The sleeping arrangements were the most difficult. He really only had the one bed in his room and the couch. Since he had chosen a solitary life, the couch being there for the rare visitor, he was largely unprepared for much company. Chuck tipped the place into the too full category. He was, though, trying to not be a problem.

They went out on Wednesday and picked up a blow up mattress from the Walmart. Now Chuck was camped out at the foot of Dean's bed on his own little mattress. It was annoying. Dean had trouble ignoring the creaky noises that were made every time that Chuck moved. He considered tossing the thing out into the space behind the couch, but thought that it might make Claire uncomfortable then.

Dean carried his sandwich to the dining room table and ate with the music cascading around him, filling the room with a false mirth that he didn't entirely feel. He wasn't sad. His home was too full of life for that lately. He wasn't happy though. He was too worried for that. He knew where all of this was heading, and it was clawing away at him. Claire was here, and with her around, he saw the potential for happiness and the joy that comes from being close to someone you care about.

Chuck was here too, and though he didn't feel much that was deep for the little writer that could, he wanted him to be happy. He brought the great potential for pain though with his visions and his eyes so full of hope. Dean had trouble even looking at him sometimes. If Chuck had his way, they'd already be on the road toward his coordinates. Dean had already vetoed that plan more than once. Claire had even weighed in with a 'we should totally just go there,' to which Dean just said an emphatic, 'no.'

This was their week. He was now just three weeks away from finals at the college. _They could wait for him to do his real damn job before they headed off on their little adventure._ That was how he thought of it too. He was worried about thinking of it in any other way. He heard the hope in Claire's voice the other night. She was hoping that this would be the bridge to Cas. Chuck was hoping that this would be the bridge to God. Dean was just hoping that he could keep from hoping for anything, but the dreams lately were a sign. They were all full of Cas, and impossible scenarios that never happened and never could.

Dean tried to direct his mind down safer paths each night when his head hit the pillow. He'd remember darker moments and losses cycling through his mind on repeat. But as consciousness slipped away, oh, what dreams did come. Dean knew Cas in those dreams as he had never known him in life, the shape of Cas' thigh fit squarely into his hand. Their mouths slipped easily into lazy dances pressed to each other, languidly moving to some soft song that only they could hear. Everything in the night was Cas and him, and everything was good until the morning.

The sun burned away all of his temporary hopes, all of his love, all of his dreams. It was 9:30 and he was toying with the idea that going to bed early might get him into a deep enough sleep that he wouldn't wake up during Chuck's tossing and turning. _Just three more weeks._ He kept telling himself that somehow all of this would be over in three weeks. He had not called Sam this week. Every time Claire tried to hand him the phone to talk to Sam, he was on his way out the door for classes or to pick up dinner. He wasn't avoiding him, _he wasn't._

Having finished his sandwich, Dean changed into his sweats and settled into his bed. If he was lucky, Claire and Chuck would stay out late. He stared off at the ceiling and clamped down the thoughts of Cas, hoping that his dreams wouldn't be of the usual sort. He had been asleep for maybe an hour, when he was awoken by a pillow, pummeling him in the dark. He sprang back after the first twack and landed on the floor beside his bed. "What the Hell?" he yelled.

"You son of a bitch. You couldn't even talk to me for five minutes this past week." The pillow was swinging down again to knock his head off. "Do you know what I've been thinking? Do you?" Now that Dean's eyes had adjusted to the dark and his brain was sufficiently awake enough, he recognized Sam. The pillow was swinging toward him again. He reached up to block it.

"What the Hell, Sam? Stop." Dean caught the pillow and yanked it away from Sam. "What are you doing here?"

"You know damn well what I'm doing here. You don't want to talk with me. You don't return my calls. Claire tells me what all you've been investigating, and well I've put two and two together."

"I'm not following."

"Yeah, right you're not. I know what's happening with you Dean and you're just one tiny step away from losing it. You always shut me out when you think you're gonna fall apart." Sam threw himself down on the bed and stared down at him. "Well, I'm not letting you do it. You talk to me. You don't get to shut me out."

Dean huffed out a hard breath of air and leaned back against the closet door. "I'm fine."

Sam reached for another pillow and held it threateningly, "Try again."

"I'm freaking out."

"Better. Now tell me what's going on."

Dean rolled his head back along the rough edge of the door slats. "I can't believe you drove all the way out here for this."

"Well I did. Now spill." Sam folded his hands in front of him and leaned onto his legs. He gave Dean 100% of his attention.

"I don't know where to begin."

"Try beginning with what you think is gonna happen. Claire seems to think that this case, the light and all, is connected to Cas."

"She's wrong. If Cas could have been saved, I would have known it."

"How? I mean you weren't exactly in full on research mode after he died."

"I just would have." Dean looked away, trying to press back the guilt that was scratching at him. He didn't do any research in the first days that followed Cas' death. He couldn't do much of anything. It didn't negate the fact that he had reasons for feeling like he had failed Cas. "You remember how he said that we shared a" Dean raised his hands and made air quotes, "a more profound bond?"

Sam nodded and said, "Yeah, I remember."

"Well, that wasn't just words. I could feel him."

"You mean like feeling the chill when a spirit is in the room?"

"Not quite. I mean," Dean stammered for a moment, not sure how to explain it all. "When he pulled me up from Hell, he left a little grace in me. Also, apparently, some of my soul was claimed by him. He carried it in him. It's part of why I felt so guilty about not fully realizing that he had given his vessel to Lucifer."

"None of us knew. I mean, he had us all fooled."

"Yeah, well I should have known. I mean, I knew that something was off, but I didn't know that it was that bad. I should have known." Sam reached down and gave his leg a pat. "Well, when he…" Dean couldn't say the word _died_. He choked back a swallow instead and said, "I felt him go. I felt it like everything was getting sucked out of the room. I felt empty. I couldn't breathe. He was gone and I, I failed him. No amount of research was gonna fix it."

"And now?"

"Now, they want to go back to where it all went down. I'm not going with them. I'll help with the research, but I'm not going with them."

"Have you told them yet?"

"Not exactly. Claire thinks that we should have left yesterday. Chuck too for that matter. He thinks that God wants us there and she thinks that it will all lead to us getting Cas back. I know that we won't get any of that. I can't get my hopes up. I'm barely hanging on here."

"So, that's why you cut me off?"

"It was too much. I didn't know what to tell you."

"Dean, sometimes it's just the talking. If you don't tell me what's going on, I will assume that it's going down like it did before. I'll assume that you're one step away from the bottle and another from the grave." Sam came down to the floor next to him. "I can live with you not hunting. In fact I prefer it. What I can't stomach is you dying on me. We've both done enough of that."

Dean let Sam pull him into a sideways hug. He didn't cry, but he felt the pin-prick of tears itching at the edges of his eyes. "I never really got to say goodbye to him like I wanted to. I just fell apart and held him. He never knew. He'll never know."

Sam held him and said, "He knew. He always knew."

"He didn't. He wouldn't have let Lucifer in if he had known. I never got to tell him." A single tear escaped, and Sam kept him in his arms, adding a gentle rocking motion to accompany the hug.

"I think you're wrong. After all, if you could feel him when he passed, then he surely felt every bit of caring that you had for him. He had to know, Dean. There's no way that he didn't."

Dean mounted several silent arguments but gave none of them a voice. Instead, he let Sam comfort him. He had needed it for years, though he'd never have admitted it. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Whatever you can."

"What if I can't do anything?"

"Then you can't. It will be fine."

"I loved him, Sam. Don't I owe him more?"

Sam didn't answer right away. "What would Cas say?"

"I honestly don't know. Something selfless. I think I owe him more than what he'd ask for though."

"Like I said before, you give what you can, and the rest will just work itself out. You don't have to go with us to the site, and you don't have to be involved in this business either." Sam waved his hands out at the rest of the room to indicated all that had been happening with Claire and Chuck. "They can come home with me and do their research in the bunker. In fact, that is likely what we'll be doing."

"Oh." Dean muttered.

"Unless you don't want that." Sam leaned away to better look at him.

"I've grown accustomed to certain things."

"So what do you want?"

"I don't know." Dean got up and straightened out the bed. "Can I sleep on it?"

"Yeah, you got room for two more in your crowded place?"

"Uh, two more?"

"Yeah, me and Alex."

"Oh, does Claire know?" Dean asked.

"Not yet? Where is she?"

"Out with Chuck getting beers and burgers. She should be home soon."

"So, you got another one of these blow-up beds?"

"Not at the moment, but I guess you could take half of my bed. Just keep your giant limbs in your half. Claire will likely share space with Alex."

Sam looked down at the bed that was not particularly large enough for them and said, "Well, I guess this'll have to do for one night."

* * *

Sam was not an ideal bed partner. Now, in their more advanced ages, they had grown far more cranky about personal space than they had before. Dean made an effort toward keeping in his space with a corpse pose, while Sam turned his back to him and faced the closet door. They surely heard Chuck when he stumbled in later that night and the awkward rumble of voices in the living room that came from Alex and Claire.

Chuck seemed to almost toss himself down onto the mattress where he quickly took to snoring a fumey bit of noises into the dark. Sam seemed to deal with it better than he did. He was soon asleep at Dean's side. Dean maybe managed a few hours. It was enough though to get him to the morning.

Sunrise was just starting to burn through the curtains of his bedroom window. Dean threw his legs over the side of the bed and rolled out the kinks in his shoulder blades. He got up and looked down at the snoring mass of Chuck on the floor, because that's where he was, not on the mattress at all. Well, his one leg was on the mattress. The rest of him was wedged into the tiny space between the mattress and the wall beneath the window.

Dean snatched a robe off of the hook on the back of the door, slipped it on, and went out to get some coffee. Lately, Claire had been beating him to the coffee making. He could hear tiny sleep sounds coming from the living room, and he assumed that they were both still asleep. The coffee pot was off and entirely empty.

He quietly began setting it to brew. While he waited, he tipped his head around the corner to look over at the couch. Only Alex was there, curled into a tight ball, very much asleep. Claire was missing from the scene. Dean looked out the sliding glass doors toward the balcony, though, and saw her out there, staring at the sunrise. He didn't go out to her right away. Instead, he finished brewing the coffee, scooped in some sugar into two mugs, gave them a stir, and then moved out to join her.

As he opened the door, she turned to him. The light from the rising sun gave her hair a warm summer glow. Her lip curled up into a half grin that her eyes didn't share. He balanced the mugs in his one hand and used the other to slide the door closed behind him. He moved to her side and handed her a mug. She curled her hands around it and went back to leaning onto the balcony wall.

Dean took a sip of his coffee, and Claire did the same. They moved in a kind of synchronicity. "Not enough sugar," she said.

"Figured you'd need it to be a little on the strong side after your night out partying with God's holy vessel."

"Judgement much?"

"Much judgement." Dean winked at her and she rolled her eyes. She drank more of her coffee.

"Didn't you take an angel of the Lord to a brothel?"

"Touché."

"Ooo, throwing a little French into the morning banter, saucy." Her smile seemed genuine now. She glanced back at the door and said, "You got a rather full house now."

"Yeah, it was rather unexpected."

"Was it?" She got a look that Dean couldn't quite read.

"You think I knew about this?"  
"Well, you were trying to get me to talk to Alex again."

"Yeah, but I've been pretty upfront with you on everything. I didn't know that they were going to show up. Plus, I wouldn't have signed up for the beating that Sam gave me to let me know that he was here and unhappy with me."

"Oh, that sucks." She turned back to the sky. The sun was eating up the night and the sky was becoming too bright for the stars to shine through. Some of them were still there though, the brightest ones. "This is my favorite time."

"Really, sunrise?"

She looked at him, eyebrow raised. "Yeah. What, you don't like a good sunrise?"

"I like the night better."

"Really? Hunters don't like the night. You've lost your street cred old man." Claire wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close.

It was cold, but Claire was radiating warmth. "Even when I was a hunter, I liked the night. The night is when we typically saved people. The night is a nice bit of symbolism."

"You might have to explain that one. I always associated darkness with evil, but what do I know, I dropped out of college." She laughed and he gave her a little squeeze.

Dean sipped at his coffee and then said, "It's not all darkness. The darkness just makes us notice the light. And that light is important. It's eternal. It took each little spot of light years to get to us. Yet it just kept on sailing through that darkness. Some of those stars started shining thousands of years ago, and we are only just now getting to appreciate them." He kissed her head and said, "The night reminds me of the vastness of the universe and of all the things that I need to take the time to appreciate. The night time is my favorite time."

"You make a convincing argument. The night too me has been a time of work and loss. I've never lost so much in the daylight."

They held each other and their thoughts. They let the sun burn away the rest of the night in front of them. "Did you work things out with Alex?"

"Or made things more complicated. We shared that bed out there. I'm a bit more sober now, and I'm not sure that we solved anything."

"Don't get to the end of your life with a bunch of regrets. You'll feel better if you can solve this thing with her."

"Sounds like you might know a thing or two about this."

"Yeah."

"We'll be okay. I just feel like if you are with someone, they kinda need to have your back. They can't be doubting you. It's about trust. I've earned that."

"You have. Did you get your apology?"

"I did."

"Then accept it."

"I do. I'm just an ornery cuss. I get it from you."

"I didn't contribute to your gene pool." Dean laughed a little.

"Yeah, but some guy once told me that family don't end with blood, and it don't even begin there either. You've given me a lot, even if you aren't my blood. You're my family." Her lips curled up into a grin and she added, "And you're totally responsible for my orneriness."

The sky was bright now, and the stars could no longer be seen. He would miss her when she left. He cast a glance at Claire, and thought again of how proud he was of her. She was a hunter, unmatched by anyone. She was smart and capable. She had risen above her circumstances and had made something great of herself. He was happy to claim her as family and happy to be claimed in return. "Since we're family, you think maybe I could get promoted from the gramps title? I mean, I'm not that old."

She tipped her head to the side and seemed to consider her options. "Okay." She paused again and added, "Pops." She punched him lightly on the arm. Dean was okay with the promotion, maybe even rather happy with it.

 **AN: Hello All, thank you so much for reading this far. I appreciate the couple of comments that you've all left behind. Also the favs and follows too have been most appreciated. If you are impatient for more of this story, I have posted up to the 18th chapter on Ao3. I believe that after I finish Lil Chorus for the Dying, I might stop posting here and post exclusively over there. Just want to give you all a heads up. Let me know if there is a pressing or good reason not to do that. I'm not entirely sold on my plan yet. Much love to you all.**


	9. Chapter 9

Saturday was more about navigating the too full apartment than anything else, that and making an awkward mess of his life. Dean took a call from Charlotte at some point in the afternoon. Everyone was crowded into his dining room when her name showed up on his phone screen. They were all researching and Dean was making lunch.

"Hey Charlotte. Gotta full house here so you might have to put on your teacher voice for me to hear you."

"Oh, I can do that. I've got you on speaker because my hands are full, so I was already planning on being loud."

"Whatcha up to?"

"Just working at the church shelter. It needed some fresh paint, so I volunteered." She sounded like she was lifting something while she was talking and there was a lot of background noise.

"Sounds fun." Dean laughed. "I've got four people camping out at my place. I was just making lunch if you need a break for some food."

"Nah, I'm gonna be pretty busy here for the foreseeable future." She paused a moment then continued. "So, I guess with all that company, I won't be able to convince you to come to church with me on Sunday. Claire too of course."

"Didn't get that this was going to be something you wanted me to participate in on the regular."

"Would that be a problem? You said that you liked it."

"I did. Of course I'm gonna bet money that you're intentions involve setting me up with Hotty McPreacherman."

Charlotte sucked in an audible breath of air, and Dean heard a deep laugh as well. "Dean, you're on speaker."

"Shit, Charlotte. Who else is listening to this. I swear to God it better not be…"

He was immediately cut off by a deep voiced apology. "I'm sorry, Dean. I should have made my presence known. I was helping with the painting and wasn't really paying attention to the conversation until, well, until I was mentioned."

"Well, that makes nearly everything awkward."

"Yes, it truly does." The reverend laughed and then added, "Or it doesn't. It's at least a compliment."

"I think I should hang up now and keep from making this any worse."

"So, are you coming to church Sunday?"

"I'm fairly certain that I won't be doing that now, no."

"If it helps, I will feel immeasurably guilty if you don't come because of this little moment. It was really nothing. Besides, Charlotte will be disappointed if you don't come and sit with her while I go on and on about whatever it is I plan to share tomorrow."

"You're good at the guilt tripping. I'm not sure though. What's the topic?"

"What do you want the topic to be?"

"That's not how it works."

"Maybe it is. Come tomorrow."

Dean thought about it a moment and then called over to Claire. "Hey kiddo. We going to church with Charlotte tomorrow?"

Claire looked at him like she wanted to question him, but instead just said, "Sure."

"Well, the kid approves, so I guess we'll see you tomorrow."

He could almost hear the reverend's smile through the phone. "Good. It would have bothered me if I had driven you off without even trying."

"Well, just focus on the sermon. I'm expecting great spiritual enlightenment."

"I'll do my best."

"Bye Charlotte. Bye Paul." He used the reverend's name and heard them both chorus back their bye's. Dean hung up and all of his guests were silently staring at him from the table. "What?"

Sam smirked, "So, you got a date or something?"

"No, I'm going to church. Who goes to church on a date?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe someone that likes someone named Hotty McPreacherman, or was it Paul?" Sam laughed and the others joined him.

"Shut it jerk." Dean turned tail and fled. He had no defence that he could mount and no way of dealing with the ribbing that he saw coming. Best to flee. So he did.

* * *

He found himself in the local woodland park that was not far from his apartment. It was being heavily used this weekend. There were bikers and hikers on every trail. Dean walked like he had a goal. Really he just needed to shake off some of the day. His world was getting to be too much for him. _Just a few more weeks and they'll all be off._ He took the path that rose up through the trees in a steep winding route. He could feel his heart rate kicking up. It reminded him that he needed to exercise more if this little trek was feeling like effort.

He thought about how things would be this summer, once all of them had moved on. He wondered if he could convince Claire, and Alex of course, to move out to his neck of the woods. He thought of Jody though, and he realized that she might feel a bit abandoned if they both left now. _Of course she might be ready for a break. They are adults now._ He knew that he was giving it all too much thought. He focused on the dirt path and the smell of the trees and the moist earth all around him. It was humid and just a little too warm for his brisk walk.

Dean got to the top of the ridge where the path veered off in two directions. He stared at the path that dipped down into the valley below, and then he looked up at the path that followed the ridge line farther around the hill. The trees thinned out if you followed the path a bit more. At night, it was an ideal way to get past the city lights and really see the stars. Because it was day though, he chose the valley path. He didn't want to roast under the sun.

He didn't realize he was doing it, but in his head, he started up a prayer. _You could have made things easier, you know. You could have made me of braver stuff. If I was supposed to be the righteous man, then why wasn't I able to handle the little things. And why didn't you give him a better gig? I mean really, what did Cas do to deserve this? How badly did he have to piss you off to get saddled with me? Then what? He get's blasted to molecules and you bring him back in the instant, but you can't do that for him again later? I'll never get it. Now I've got everyone and my brother trying to set me up with a preacher. Well, nice try, God, but no. If you're all set on rewarding me, then bring back my angel._

His steps were heavy now, and if the day had not been so humid, he would have been kicking up a dust trail with his heavy footfalls. The trail in the valley was empty for the most part. It was almost eerie. There had been so many people on the trails before. There was a small stream up ahead that wound by the rocky edge of the trail. There was a large outcropping of rocks that Dean wandered over to. He settled onto the smooth part and stared off into the distance. He felt the warmth that he had felt before. The light seemed to settle on him. He had no way to get at the truth behind it, what it was, or better yet, who it might be.

He didn't want to be hopeful, but in the moment he wanted so much to believe it was Cas. His heart knew it wasn't, but he wanted it to be so much that he closed his eyes and imagined a familiar face with deep blue eyes. He imagined softness of a tentative touch, the breath of all things wisping about in the space that they shared. The light was warm around him. It was holding him, and seemed to want nothing more than the nearness. It was comfort again, and it seemed to want Dean to accept that. With his eyes closed, he could accept it, because his mind could supply him with Cas. He breathed in deeply of the mountain air, the sounds of the babbling stream accompanying the base acts of living seemed to lull him into a near sleep.

"What are you? Who are you?" He didn't expect an answer, and none was provided. There was just the warmth and what felt like love if he imagined enough to accompany it. _You're not Cas though._ He opened his eyes and the light was still there, but not as tightly wrapped around him as it was before. He watched it slowly pulse away until he was no longer surrounded by it. "You're not Cas." This time it was a whisper, but he felt like it bore saying out loud. In part he said it, because if Cas was out there somewhere, not that he was, Dean didn't want him to think that a wee spot of light would be able to convince him so easily. He didn't want Cas to think that he would confuse any other creature for him. He knew Cas and would recognize him in a heartbeat. He missed things when Cas shared space with Lucifer. He wouldn't miss anything again. He tipped his head back and looked up to the bright blue sky, blue like his eyes, blue like the last of his dreams. He looked up, and he said, "Come back to me. Just come back."


	10. Chapter 10

Sunday came, and with it, church, Dean, and his entourage. They apparently wanted to see what Dean could do in his spare time if he had a mind to, not that he wanted to do anyone. Claire said that they all needed to go because something was odd the last time, and that more eyes might catch what it was. "Liar," Dean said under his breath, but Claire heard him.

"You know it's true. He was not the preacher he is now. He started delivering better sermons a year ago. I can't get past the fact that you moved here a year ago."

Dean thought that was a flimsy excuse, but he couldn't argue with it. Everyone was just so damn excited to get their religion on. "Well, it is possible that he just figured his shit out. Literally nothing weird has happened here since I moved here."

"How long's it been since," Claire stopped a moment, seeming to consider her phrasing before continuing. "Uh, since, Cas?"

Sam thankfully answered, "It's been a little over seven years."

"Has it?" Chuck tipped his head considering.

"Yeah," Dean mumbled and everyone accepted it.

Chuck moved over to Claire's side. "You think maybe he's?" The question was cut off, but Claire seemed to know what he was asking.

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that. What if he was kinda compelled to show up here by, I don't know, like a higher power or something?"

"Seriously, you two, what are you thinking here?" Truth be told, he knew what they were thinking. Dean's thinly veiled irritation was bubbling up. He was fine with researching and sending them off on this little mission, but now they seemed to be looking at the preacher like he was part of something more supernatural, and that seemed a little too close to his old hunting life-meeting nice people, watching them get sucked into his messed up world, standing by helplessly while they die.

"Dean, you see it right?" Claire said as she gave him the look, raised eyebrows and an eyeroll to boot. "The list Chuck made, said that we needed a bunch of stuff, and one of the things we need is a 'man of faith.' He could be our man of faith."

"I don't think that we should be tossing civies into a potentially messy situation. We don't even know for sure what will happen. You haven't researched this nearly enough. For God's sake, you all are so quick to just jump headlong into this thing, and none of you know even remotely what this thing is, what will happen, or if we should just run screaming from it all."

They all stared at him in silence. Chuck settled a hand on his shoulder and said, "You know we have to do this. I for one, am not a brave man, not even close. In fact, my entire run as a prophet was spent hiding away in a dark house with my computer and liquor-copious amounts of mind numbing liquor. So, when you say that this might be bad and I'm not the first one running out the door, that should tell you something. This isn't a scary thing. Something is calling us, and I for one, think it might be God. We don't need to be afraid. We need to help."

"Well, Chuck bully for you. We aren't going into this without the research. You all haven't figured out nearly enough yet. You all can't just go off because Chuck here has a feeling. That shit gets you killed. Ask Cas. Oh wait, you can't." Dean stormed off to his room and slammed the door in his wake. It was no real escape, but he needed to end the conversation and the door slam punctuated the point. He would wait in there until he absolutely had to face them again. He glanced at the clock. "Shit." It was just twenty minutes to go time. The service would be starting at ten. He let himself stay in the room for two full minutes of blessed silence before he turned back to the door and all that was beyond it.

* * *

When they met up with Charlotte in front of the church, Sam's hand snapped to his hip. Luckily Dean saw the move before it happened. "She's not Billie," he whispered in Sam's ear.

"Shit." Sam looked from Dean toward Charlotte and back. She was standing in front of the church waving at them as they approached. "It's uncanny. You checked?"

"Of course I did. I'm not an idiot. She's just Charlotte." Dean stepped away from Sam then and moved ahead to be the first to greet her. He pulled her into a hug and said, "Hey fam, this is Charlotte. Charlotte, this is everyone." He went through the introductions and Charlotte shook hands with each of them. She'd already met Chuck and Claire, but Dean reintroduced Chuck for good measure.

When he got to Sam, Charlotte stepped up close. "I feel like I've already met you. Dean practically worships the ground you walk on."

Sam smiled and ran a hand back up into his hair. "I feel like I've met you already too. Pretty much every time I talk with Dean it's all, 'Charlotte this' and 'Charlotte that.' I'm glad he found a friend out here."

"Your brother's great. I'm the one that's been lucky. I was new to the area too. Dean and I kinda took each other in." Charlotte had a brightness to her that seemed to radiate kindness. Dean remembered when he first met her. After he had gotten over his scare concerning her looks, he found her to be welcoming. He felt like they just kind of made sense together. They had lunches and casual conversations that never seemed to tax him. Charlotte was like a calm spring day. She made everything seem easier.

People were starting to head in and they could hear the light melody of a hymn wafting out on the breeze. "Sounds like we better get in." Dean moved toward the stairs. Claire looped an arm through his.

"Need some help up the stairs, Pops?" Claire smiled up at him.

"Rude." Dean kept her arm anyway.

Charlotte laughed at them. "You two."

They made their way in and found a full pew in the middle that was still empty. They took that one and waited for the service to start.

* * *

Dean made a point of focusing this round and not on the sermon. He looked to the walls and the art. He took in the colors and the congregation, well, at least the backs of their heads. Nothing was weird or out of place. Once he directed his focus to the reverend though, he noticed that he was being watched, and that the reverend looked concerned.

Chuck was seated to his left and Claire was to his right with Charlotte on her other side. Sam and Alex were next to Chuck. Dean noted that Alex was clear on the other side away from Claire. He decided to make a point of chatting with Alex about it, see if he could help. He leaned forward at one point and made eye contact. She looked at him and half smiled back. He turned his attention back to the reverend.

Paul was talking about faith, at least that was what Dean was hearing. He leaned over to Chuck and whispered, "So what are you getting from the sermon? What's the message?"

"Doing one's duty," Chuck whispered back.

"Yeah, but more about having faith right?" Dean asked.

Chuck looked doubtful, then turned to the reverend to listen. After a few moments he said, "Yeah, there's some bits on faith in there. It's all connected to purpose and duty though."

Charlotte leaned forward past Claire and swatted at him. "Shhh." Dean noticeably cringed in apology and leaned back to show he was now focused on the sermon and not Chuck. The sermon was definitely about faith.

"Now, we've all heard the verse concerning faith. It is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." Dean turned to Charlotte as the reverend uttered the words. She winked back.

Claire leaned into him and took a chance, whispering, "Remember what the specifics are and we'll compare later." Dean nodded.

He noticed that Paul seemed nervous up there, not like the confident man that he saw the Sunday prior. He also spent a lot of time looking in their direction, and then pointedly avoiding looking at them. "Without faith, we cannot hope to see God. It is our faith that creates the bridge, that carries us to all that is good. It builds us up and strengthens us in times of sorrow."

Dean tuned him out and leaned forward again. He cast a glance down the pew to Sam. Sam was intently watching the reverend. His hands were clenched on his lap. Alex, next to him, was fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

The sermon seemed to end abruptly. They stood together, and the reverend delivered a final prayer. Dean did not close his eyes. He watched the reverend as he prayed. The reverend stared back. The prayer ended, and Dean waited for him to make his way down the aisle. Paul just lingered at the front though. Charlotte leaned past Claire and said, "Well, you all gonna head out? You're holding up the pew."

They were the only group in that pew, but it was weird to just stand there while everyone around them was heading out. Dean threw one more look toward Paul. He was speaking with an elderly woman at the front of the church and not looking at Dean. They moved out into the aisle then.

"Will he be chatting with the congregation out in the vestibule again?" Claire asked.

Charlotte answered, "Doesn't look like it. Harriet has his ear, and she won't likely let him escape anytime too soon."

"Oh," Dean let slip. His tone sounded disappointed.

They got out into the aisle and started heading out to the vestibule. Charlotte moved up to his side and elbowed him a little. "So, you were hoping to have a couple of words with Paul?" Her tone was low and conspiratorial.

Dean glanced at her then returned his focus to the path ahead. "I had a couple of questions about the sermon. I can just ask next time."

"Oh," she said the word like it had four syllables and a rising pitch. "Just a few questions about the sermon, huh?" Dean looked at her again but said nothing. "You know, I bet he would totally join you for coffee or maybe dinner to talk about your questions."

"No, Charlotte." Dean quickened his pace, hoping that he could put distance between himself and that conversation. Luckily, it seemed like everyone else was engaged in their own conversations. Claire was whispering with Chuck, likely about the service. Sam and Alex were walking arm in arm, also whispering.

"Just saying, Dean." Charlotte sounded like she was going to launch into the many merits of the Reverend Paul Carmichael.

Dean interrupted, "Look, Charlotte. He's plenty good looking, okay, but I'm not interested. I don't think I'm ever going to be much of the dating kind again. And if you have his ear, it might be nice if you let him down easy for me. It'd be far better than encouraging him where there's no chance." They were out on the street now and apparently everyone chose to start paying attention to Dean and Charlotte at just the right moment. "Great." Dean tipped his head back and rolled his eyes to the heavens. "Seriously, what did I ever do to deserve this?" Chuck came to his side and settled a hand on his shoulder. He opened his mouth to answer and Dean just said, "Oh, don't you dare."

"What?" Chuck's mouth slowly spread into a shit-eating grin. "I was just going to list some of the many things that you have done that seemed worthy of this brand of rewarding. I happen to have so much to share and little opportunities to do so." Chuck tapped his head with one finger and laughed.

Claire said, "I don't think you should discourage the reverend just yet." She turned her attention to Charlotte, but Dean could tell that she was still directing some of her words to him. "Dean is rash and impulsive when he feels cornered. Give him some time, and if he wants out of the path that he is on with the handsome reverend, then, well, he's a big boy. Let him take care of it." Claire turned back to him with a grin.

"You all hate me."

Sam came up to Dean and gave him a sideways hug. "Ah, you know we love you." Then he mussed up Dean's hair with a noogie.

"Dude, we are way to old for this." Dean ducked away and stepped behind Alex as a shield.

They all laughed at him. Charlotte came over to him and gave him a hug. "I promise not to do anymore encouraging, but I'll also hold off on the discouraging too. Anyway," she looked down at her wristwatch. "I gotta get going. Sorry to church and run, but I have a lunch date."

"Oh," now Dean gave the word too many syllables and a raised tone. "You've been withholding information."

"I'll share more tomorrow or Tuesday, if you're up for lunch between classes."

"Sounds like a plan. Have fun." Dean watched her go, a spring in her step as she headed down the sidewalk.

Claire came up to him and punched him in the shoulder. "What're you thinking trying to blow off Paul? Seriously, we need to talk to him, get some info, and you just want to make that all kinds of awkward first?"

"I'm not gonna lead him on just so you all can find out what he's about. I can find that out without being a dick." Dean started off down the sidewalk.

Claire stopped him, grabbing his arm. "Well," she looked at Chuck then back at Dean. "Chuck and I think that you need to go talk to him. We think he's definitely the 'man of faith' that the list called for. Chuck got a vibe."

Dean glanced at Chuck then and said, "Then maybe you should go talk to him."

"Pretty sure that would be the definition of awkward. I've never even met him," Chuck said.

Dean's phone buzzed then. Charlotte had sent him a message. _By the way, Paul has office hours today and throughout the week. You can catch him there between 5 and 7._

Claire leaned over and looked at the message. "Perfect, you can catch him today and bring him up to speed."

"Shit, Claire. I don't even know what the actual plan is. Maybe you should go." He tucked the phone back into his pocket. "And don't give me the line Chuck just did. It'd be way less awkward for you, and you've talked with him just as much as I have."

Claire glanced around and seemed to settle her gaze on Sam, who gave her a nod. Dean wondered what that was about. Then Claire said, "I'll rock, paper, scissors for the honor. Loser talks to Paul."

Dean looked over at Sam, who just wrinkled up his face and shrugged like he hadn't just caused this solution to appear out of thin air. "Fine." Dean shook out his shoulders and pushed up his sleeves. It seemed like there was nothing he would take more seriously than this challenge.

"Ready?" Claire asked as she stood across from him, equally serious. She held her one hand out in front of her flat with her other hand in a loose fist on top.

Dean had the same posture. "Ready." Tap, tap, tap, and Dean threw scissors.

Claire gave him a rock and won. Sam muttered behind him, "Still with the scissors, Dean. After all these years…"

Dean directed a scowl his way. "I don't even know what to say."

"I think he already knows," Chuck offered. "Just tell him everything. He'll go along with it, but he should know what's up. Pretty sure you'll make it sound like a horrible plan and like something he shouldn't do, but he will."

"Why?"

"Because God wants him to." Chuck's look was so sincere, and yet it did nothing to make Dean want to go through with any of this. A bet's a bet though.

Dean started to walk off. Claire called out, "Hey, where're you going? You've got hours before he'll be in his office."

"I'm gonna go have some me time before. I need to clear my head." He waved back at them as he made his way down the sidewalk. It was more than just telling Paul about the situation. It was about pulling an innocent party into something that could be dangerous. He really didn't want to do this.

 **AN: Thank you all for the love. I appreciate all of the comments.**


	11. Chapter 11

Dean found himself at the planetarium. It was always closed on Sundays. He had the key though, so he let himself in. The place had been recently cleaned, and the smell of Windex was still in the air. Dean turned on the program and let the stars pop into existence. Left the narration off this time and just watched the sky.

Denab appeared and Dean said, "Wish you were here." Dean spoke quietly to the sky and to Cas. "Just so you know, I'm not moving on. I don't want that." The lower region of the sky glowed green. It was the part of the program where the narrator talked about the Aurora Borealis. He wondered if he could just stay here, avoid the whole mess. _They could handle this on their own, right?_ "I want to believe that you'll come back, but I know that isn't in the cards. I don't even know why I'm talking to you now. You can't hear me."

He felt frustrated by the whole thing. He had managed to avoid the misery for years. Well, not entirely, but it was at least contained and controlled misery. He felt like Claire showed up and suddenly the cap was removed from the bottle of soda after it had been well and truly shaken. Dean let his mind wander over memories, trying to find one that would make things easier. No memory of Cas though could really do that. Thinking of him was a constant reminder of the losses, the emptiness that lived in him, and the way that life would always be for him from now on. Sometimes he let himself dwell because he loved Cas and wanted to cling to the moments. Sometimes he let himself dwell because he hated himself and wanted drag himself through the misery. Most days he felt like he deserved the torment. _I am to blame._ That was the constant mantra that echoed in Dean's mind. He carried the weight of Cas' death and his choices too as if he were solely responsible for them all.

His mind found a dark alley, stars sparking past the darkness overhead. Cas was beating him. Dean's mind turned off the words. He knew them all already. It was the contact that mattered, the memory of Cas drawing his blood forth with each slam of his fists. It was an old memory. It was penance. It was from the first time that he had really given up. The apocalypse was drawing nigh and there was nothing more that he could do. He went off to take care of business, but the snarky little angel of the Lord found him and unleashed a type of wrath that Dean had not expected.

He had played out this moment before. When Cas pressed him to the bricks, Dean closed his eyes tighter, anticipating the next wave of violence. The pounding of Cas' fists into him would be a song of sorts. He'd find forgiveness in the tune. Sometimes though he'd turn the moment into something else. Dreams and memories were funny like that. There were times when the moment had ended in a kiss, raw and desperate. Cas would slam him back harder into the brick and seem like he was there to consume Dean.

Still there were other times when Dean imagined it becoming quiet. Cas pressed against him in the alley staring at him would turn into an abrupt moment of tenderness. His hand would move up to his cheek. His fingers would slowly trace out the shape of the bruises forming there. In a moment he looked sad, like he couldn't believe that his hands had done this. In those dreams, Dean wanted to tell him that it was fine, that it was what he deserved, and that he could take more if need be.

"You're stronger than this." Cas' words breathed past his cheek to his ear. Dean thought that he was going to relive this as a silent memory. _Guess not. Talking it is then. More torment for everyone!_

He looked at Cas, so close, so real. He was gripping his shirt and jacket in his fists exactly as he had before. Dean could feel the rough brick of the alley wall behind him. His hands pressed to it to keep himself grounded. "I'm not." His words answered Cas and were gritty and desperate.

"You are, Dean Winchester. You've survived worse. Now stop wallowing in this self-imposed misery and get to work." Dean imagined himself opening his eyes more now. Cas was close, still gripping his clothes at his chest, but he looked different, more like his later Cas, more like the Cas that had died and come back a few times. He was a Cas of experience, a Cas that loved him, maybe.

Dean let himself wonder when the change occurred for him. He wondered if he had always loved Cas but just to a different degree. He wondered if Cas' love for him was the same. Did he climb up from the depths of Hell with an increase of devotion forming with each moment. Did it come to him by degrees as he watched Dean struggling through one thing after the next. Dean thought about these things over the years and sometimes he concluded that Cas merely loved him as a brother in arms and nothing more. It was easier to believe that sometimes. Somehow that reality hurt less. Maybe it was because then he didn't have to feel like all of his reservations and secret feelings were kept from someone that wanted them desperately.

He let his mind slip back into the memory that wasn't at all as it had been. Cas settled his head onto Dean's shoulder, releasing his coat from his fists as he did so. His hands fell down to Dean's sides. Dean's hands were still pressed back against the brick. "Of course I loved you."

Dean muttered back. "Yeah, I know buddy."

"No, I loved you, still love you, always will love you." Cas' hands found his and held them at their sides.

"I don't know why I keep doing this to myself. I don't know why I keep imagining that we had this, that we ever moved onto anything even remotely like this."

Cas pressed a kiss to his neck then and lingered there a moment. Dean focused on the warmth of it. His head tipped back a little to give Cas more access. He looked up to the stars. They were bright and not obscured by the city lights. "You're not imagining this," Cas murmured into his neck. It was the stars that set Dean off though. It was their brightness in the city that told Dean that they were unreal, that all of this was unreal.

"I am, but that's okay. Sometimes it's okay to imagine good things." Dean brought his arm up to wrap around Cas' waist.

"I'm not sure how to convince you, but I'm with you, I've always been with you. It might look like the stuff of dreams, but we've had that before and you didn't doubt it then."

The vision shifted and they were on a dock, looking out at a placid lake. Cas was no longer pressed to him. He disliked the shift in the vision. He didn't feel like he had control of it. He looked up at Cas and stood from the seat that he had found himself in. "What just happened?"

Cas reached out to him and cupped his cheek in his hand. "Have faith, Dean. Sometimes good things do happen." He leaned in and kissed him, soft like they had all the time in the world to linger and live. Dean was confused, but he kissed him back, and pushed aside all of the thoughts that were vying for attention. He wanted this moment to just be him and Cas. He pulled Cas closer, digging his fingers into the folds of the eternal trenchcoat. He opened his mouth to him, and Cas deepened the kiss.

When he chose to breathe, the day had turned to night at the lake. The stars shone high overhead. The shoreline was touched with the green light that seemed like the light of the fake Aurora Borealis back at the planetarium. Dean looked down at him, close and real and alive. "I love you." And he breathed in deeply from the cool night air. "I love you." It bore repeating for all the times that passed before, for all the times he hadn't said it. He would repeat it forever if this were only real, if this could ever be his.

They stood together for a moment more before the world in front of him flickered and Cas was gone again. Everything was dark except for the stars that were still projected onto the ceiling. Dean sighed and said aloud, "If only it were real." The stars were moving now, swirling and streaking across the ceiling sky. It was part of the story, part of what was programed. He got up from the seat and moved to the podium. He switched off the projection. The room went dark for a moment, then the house lights came on. He glanced at his phone and saw the time. It was late. _Maybe he'll be gone._ He left the room and headed out to meet with Paul.

* * *

Reverend Carmichael's office was situated behind the church. Dean went to it and paused at the door. He didn't knock right away. He considered leaving. "Damn it all." Dean knocked.

The voice from within called out, "Come in." Dean opened the door to Paul's office and found him seated behind a large desk. His hair was disheveled and he noticeably stiffened when Dean entered.

"Hello. Is now a bad time to drop in?" Dean hoped it was. He hoped that the reverend would somehow see the sense in turning him away.

"No, of course not." Paul motioned for Dean to take a seat in the empty chair across from his desk. "I have to admit, I didn't expect to see you."

"I really don't want to bother you. I mean, if you're busy, just say the word." Dean rushed through his words, practically praying that Paul would wave him off, tell him that they should do this another time.

"Don't be silly. I'm glad you stopped in, whatever your reasons." He smiled and it felt sincere. He ran his hands back up into his hair and smoothed it down a little. "So, what brings you by?"

"I want to ask about your sermons." Dean stopped not sure how to broach the subject. _Can one really just ask about something like this. How does it go? Hey have you made any crossroad's deals lately? How much of a prophet are you? Know any witches?_

Paul let out a sigh. "Really? I thought you were here to talk about the people that you brought into the church today."

Dean blanched, "Huh?"

"The people, but if you really want to talk about the sermon we can talk about that and meander our ways toward the real subject." He folded his hands in front of him.

"How do you do that?"

"What?"

"You know what," Dean said. He waved his hands out in front of himself in a somewhat prissy manner.

"The knowing what people want stuff?" Paul got up then and walked over to the other side of the desk. He leaned into it, sitting on the edge a bit. He looked down at Dean now, and seemed like he was reading him more.

Dean couldn't look away. The moment, the looming presence of him, reminded Dean of Cas. Their positions reminded him a little of the memory that he had been reliving just an hour before. He got up and moved back toward the bookcase. His hands curled up around the shelf behind him. "What are you?"

Paul came closer to him. "You don't need to be afraid of me." He stood close and reached out slowly to Dean. "I'm just what I seem to be."

"I don't know what you seem to be." Dean squeezed back more into the bookcase. "Are you a prophet?"

"No." He ran his hand up to Dean's chest. "I'm just a preacher." He settled his hand there and stared into Dean's eyes. Dean stared back. He didn't cringe away, didn't close his eyes against what was to come if anything.

"How do you know what people want? Your sermons cater to the individuals in your congregation." Paul's hand slid up to Dean's neck and around to the back. His fingers scratched up into Dean's hair.

"I use to be horrible at my job. I was a preacher that no one wanted to listen to. I was going to be replaced. I prayed about it. I prayed pretty ardently to be honest." He pressed in close to Dean, his chest resting against Dean's own. "And God answered my prayers. He came to me in a flash of light, settled into my form and let me see what was needed. My sermons were better. I could hear what my congregation needed, and I could give them something worthy of their attention."

"You can hear their needs?"

"Yes, it is why you are standing here, and why I am comfortable with our proximity. You seemed to want this." He leaned toward Dean then and was about to kiss him. Before his mouth made contact he froze, backed away. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Okay."

"I didn't see the rest of it. You aren't like the others." He took another step back and asked, "Who is it that you lost?"

Dean felt his muscles relax a little. He went with honesty. "An angel."

Paul stared at him a moment and then said, "How?"

"I'd rather not."

"I'm sorry, Dean. I misinterpreted your desires. It's been a long time, and I just…" He moved back to his seat on the other side of the desk. He waved Dean back to his seat.

"You seem a lot like him. I may have been sending out mixed signals." Dean moved back to the seat and shifted until he was a little more comfortable.

"You project rather strongly. I'm not sure why you are different. The others that came with you project differently from my congregation, but not as strongly as you do. You are all rather unique."

"That makes sense."

"The girl sitting next to Charlotte projects a bit." Paul folded his hands in front of him. He looked like he was a little more relaxed than he had been before. _Maybe the honesty is helping._

"We are not your typical people."

"Do tell."

"Well, Claire is an angel vessel. I am also an angel vessel, but I have not been possessed in that way. I was, for a time, considered to be the 'righteous man.' That would take some explaining so let me just jump ahead to the part where I was also a demon, totally reformed now though." Dean smiled at the look of shock that Paul had on his face. "Is this overwhelming or should I continue?"

"Oh, continue," he said with some confidence in his tone.

"Then there's my brother Sam. He was the tall one on the end. He's also an angel vessel. Except that he did say yes."

"Oh, so is he an angel now?" Paul leaned forward with interest.

"No, and you wouldn't have wanted to have been around him back then either. He said yes to Lucifer to thwart the apocalypse."

"Whoa, are you serious?" Dean just smiled and Paul said, "You're serious."

"Yep. So then Cas, an angel that spent a fair amount of time with us, harrowed Hell and saved Sam, leaving Lucifer behind." Dean cracked his knuckles, seeming to enjoy the down playing of his life's major events. "Moving on. Next to Sam was Alex. She was raised by some vampires and briefly she was turned into a vampire. She too is now reformed."

"Vampires are a thing? That's real?"

"Entirely too real."

Paul reached out his hand across the desk and said, "Could you give me your hand for a moment?"

"Uh, sure. Why?" Dean put his hand into Paul's.

"Sometimes contact helps me read people better." He curled his fingers around Dean's hand and held it. "Continue."

"Well, lastly, there's Chuck, and I'm not sure what to make of him."

"He was hard to read."

"How so?"

"I would get splashes of things from him, mostly just colors and noise. It was like a feedback loop. I started to feel sick during the sermon. If I had gone on much more I'm sure it would have been bad. It was like I wasn't supposed to be reading him or something."

"Hmm, that's odd, but probably explainable. Chuck is a prophet. He also acted as a vessel for God." Now Paul looked rather shocked. His grip on Dean's hand tightened quite noticeably.

"Uh, sorry." He loosened his grip on Dean's hand. His thumb moved gently back and forth seemingly to sooth away the pain he had maybe caused.

"So that covers the introductions." Dean leveled his gaze on him in a more serious manner. "You must know why I'm here then."

"I know that you need me to do something, but I don't know what. I'm sensing that you're nervous about the situation. You want me to decline whatever offer you put on the table. You also keep threading in thoughts of loss and an emptiness."

Dean started to pull his hand back to himself, then he didn't. "Maybe you don't need to be reading quite so much of me."

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"It's nice to have some things that are just yours, ya know?"

"Yes. I'm sorry." Paul started to slide his hand away, but Dean held on.

"It's okay. You'll want to get a full read when I tell you what I'm here for."

Paul curled his fingers around Dean's hand again and waited. "I'm ready."

Dean sucked in a breath and said, "God or something supernatural has spoken to Chuck. He has asked us to go to a site that holds a great deal of relevance to us." Dean stopped suddenly angry at himself for downplaying the site. Paul's squeezed his hand in comfort. Dean closed his eyes and pictured the place, the moments before he lost everything. "It's where we lost Cas." Dean felt the memory taking over his mind. He felt the cold chill of it raking over him. He tensed and continued with his eyes closed. "Chuck thinks that we need to go there to help God, like maybe he's there." Dean felt the light in the room trying to break past his closed eyes. He could see dust motes floating in the dark like stars hovering in the night sky. Still he kept his eyes closed. "Claire thinks that we need to go there because helping God might also mean helping Cas."

"You love him. That was the need that I was misinterpreting."

"Yes." Dean was fighting to control his emotions. He wasn't sure if it was just the sharing of the story or if it was the contact with Paul that was making everything so much more intense. "Chuck was given coordinates to the site, and a list of items that we needed to procure. One of the items was 'a man of faith.' I'm not sure that any of us really qualify."

Paul interrupted, "So this is where I come in?"

"Yes."

"But you want me to decline?" Dean chose to open his eyes then and saw that Paul looked a little tired. His eyes seemed heavier than they had when Dean had first entered.

"I don't have a good track record. I lose everyone that I get close to. I never seem like I'm capable of protecting the people that count on me to do so. I don't know what will happen to you if you say yes. I also don't know what you will be saying yes to. In my experience, saying yes is almost always a bad thing."

Paul's thumb began stroking back and forth over Dean's knuckles again. "As it stands, you're just asking me to go with you all to this site. I still have free will. I can get there and say that I've done enough. I can back out and run home screaming if I want."

Dean took a deep breath. "In my experience, even with free will, my people tend to get sucked into things. It's enough to make you wonder if maybe there is no real free will. Maybe it's all been determined, the path we're on, what we'll do."

"I can't believe that. Perhaps efforts have been made to direct our course, but not everything can be so controlled."

"Most days I feel like it is. The angels manipulated my birth, setting off a chain of events that caused my parents to meet and fall in love. So many little steps were taken to move our actions appropriately. I have a hard time believing that we're in control of anything."

Paul sighed, "That's a philosophy for those that feel defeated. I sense that about you. Sometimes it's easier to just believe that the fault in our lives is spelled out in the stars above. That we are on a path written by the heavens with no hope. We can't change what is written, so why try? That is what one says when they've lost too many times to count."

"Sounds like you know a thing or two about loss." Dean's voice dropped low. Paul's hand was warm in his.

"I do. I know my own losses and the losses of those in my congregation. I feel the losses, all of them like they were my own. You can't let your losses crush you though. You can't let yourself believe that it was all for nothing. There's more. There's choice. There's something beyond all of this to hope for."

Dean thought of heaven and cringed. He thought of the endless abyss that he had waiting for him. He thought about the here and now, the endless days and nights without Cas. _There's nothing beyond this. There's nothing to hope for._ "I'm glad you still have your faith. I've moved past that. My fate is written. I know what will happen to me. I know where this life ends."

"Fuck fate," Paul said. Dean let his hand go and leaned back into his seat. "Uh, sorry."

"Wow, didn't know preachers had that kind of vocabulary." Dean smiled at him.

"Nothing is set."

"It's as set as the stars."

"What do you mean?"

"When my time comes, I've got a reaper that has promised to toss my soul into the abyss. I'll spend my eternity beyond the stars in the empty. There will be no heaven or hell for me there. There will be no coming back. That's my fate. My future is written in the stars." Dean's lips curled up in a look that was wry and also serious.

"Then you must defy the stars. You must fight and live and write the ending you deserve." Paul stood up then. He came to the other side of the desk. "If I've learned anything from the people in my care, I've learned that mankind is capable of great things when we put our minds to it. Sometimes we forget all that we've accomplished when we've thrown away the rulebooks." He reached out to Dean and settled his hands on Dean's shoulders. "Throw out the rulebook Dean. Let yourself have a little faith again."

"And when I fail again, like I have every time?"

"Then you get up and you do it all again, because that's what men like you do." He let Dean go then and moved back to the other side of the desk. He had his back to him. He said, "I'm gonna need to get home. I've got a lot to put in order."

Dean shook his head and seemed to catch up. "Does that mean you're coming with us?"

"Yes. I will need a bit of time. I'll need to get a fill-in for the weeks that I'm gone. Sermons won't happen on their own." He turned back to Dean and smiled.

"You sure? I mean, you don't have to do this."

"I know. I'm making a choice. I trust that you'll accept that this is my choice and mine alone. Whatever happens, it's not on you."

Dean got up then. "I can say that I agree to that, but I know me. If you get hurt, I'll carry that."

"Guess I best not get hurt then. Wouldn't want you feeling all guilty or anything." He waved at the door, eyes holding a splash of genuine warmth. "Get home to your people."

Dean moved back into his space and shook his hand. Paul settled a second hand over the first much like he had the first time that they met. "Thanks, Paul."

"Thank you." Paul smiled a small somewhat shy smile. "Thanks for giving me an opportunity to do something maybe great."

Dean let his hand go and slipped out the door. As it closed in his wake, the sound of it felt something like an end. He let his hands curl up at his sides as he walked away. A little warmth descended upon him as he walked down the sidewalk. It could have been the sun, but the sky was overcast now. Maybe it was the light, and maybe it was happy that Dean's life seemed to be heading down this particular path.


	12. Chapter 12

Dean returned to his apartment a little after dark. He made the journey home drag. He was not looking forward to the company of his family and friends. They would be happy with the choice that Paul had made, and he would have to accept that. Before arriving at his door though, he found Alex.

She was sitting in the hallway just outside of his door. She had a tablet and seemed to be reading rather intensely. "Hey there," he said as he approached.

She looked up at him. "Hey yourself." Dean leaned against the wall next to her and peered down at what was on her tablet. "Whatcha reading?"

She angled it toward him a bit more and said, "It's about the herb moly."

"Uh, why?"

"It was on the list. It was the plant given to the hero Odysseus in Homer's _Odyssey_."

"Oh." Dean slid down the wall and sat next to her. "So why're you out here?"

"I was getting tired of the crowds. It's hard to read anything when everyone wants to chime in with some humorous thing that they stumbled upon in the moment. We're on a bit of a timeline here, and research is kinda important."

"Yeah, nice to hear that someone agrees." Dean angled her tablet over and read a few lines. "So, things going okay with Claire now?"

"Uh, yeah." She angled the tablet back and made like she was reading it.

"I just couldn't help but notice that you didn't sit next to her at church today."

Alex set aside the tablet. "Seriously Dean? You? I mean I expect the meddling from Jody, maybe even Sam, but not you."

"Just gotta make sure my favorite girls are doing okay." Dean pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them. He could feel the strain in the muscles all down his back.

"Well, you've talked with Claire. You know what's up."

"I have, but I haven't talked with you. Last I checked you were two separate people. Also, I had no clue you two were a couple now. Way to clue a guy in." Dean smiled and then looked away so she wouldn't feel uncomfortable.

"Yeah, it's a little recent and maybe short lived. I blew it." Dean looked back at her and caught the way that her seriousness had fallen away for something more sorrowful.

"I don't think all is lost. You just gotta talk to her. Work it out."

"I thought we did, but apparently not. I didn't realize that she had been drinking as much that night as she had. She said that she forgave me, then in the morning, she said she was drunk."

"Oh, that's rough." Dean didn't really know what else to say so he sat silently at her side.

"I was wrong. I don't know what else I can say to convey this." She was staring down at the now darkened screen of the tablet that was turned off. Then she looked up at Dean and said, "I love her. I don't want her to leave me."

Dean reached over and settled a hand on her shoulder. "Then you do whatever you have to do to fix this. In my experience, and it is vast, let me tell you, you can't let stupid moments like this derail you from one another. You don't want to spend the rest of your life regretting the moment that you didn't make the right move or say the right words."

"Like with Cas?" She asked in a whisper.

"Exactly. Everyday I regret everything. Don't do that to yourself. She wants to forgive you, and truth be told, there's not much to forgive."

"There's plenty to forgive. I doubted her. That's a kinda big deal."

"Nah, partners are supposed to doubt each other every now and then in this business. Hunters are supposed to have a healthy dose of skepticism running through their veins."

"Not directed at each other though. We're supposed to doubt everything else, but not each other. She's never doubted me, no once since we started hunting together." She dipped her head down and rested it on her knees.

"Well, I could throw in a few words with her. I've been trying to send her down a path of reconciliation. I just know what it is to live with regret, and I quite frankly want better than that for you both."

She leaned into his side and he hugged her. "You think all of this will get Cas back?" She looked up at him with the question.

"Obviously, I am not on board with any of this."

"Even if it gets Cas back?"

"It won't. That's the worst part. I'd know if he was out there trying to get back here. I'd know if this thing was gonna work out. We had that sort of connection. It won't end that way though. He's gone, and the moment I let myself even remotely acknowledge that there's a chance is the moment that I set myself up for every kind of hurt."

Alex slipped back up to a fully upright position. "Aren't you already kinda hoping? I mean, haven't you even considered the likelihood?"

He looked away then, and got up. "I've been doing my best to push it aside. I fail sometimes. I can't risk believing that he's out there though. It'll kill me when it turns out that I was wrong."

Alex got up then and walked up into his space. She hugged him. "It's the lack of hope that makes you die, Dean, not the other way around. You gotta believe in something, so why not in Cas?"

He hugged her back and said, "I always had faith in him, but this is different." He stepped back and added, "Let's go in and guilt someone into making me some dinner."

She smiled at him, but it looked a little melancholy. "Sounds like a good plan."

* * *

Time passed and he struggled to remain aloof. He helped with the research in the evening, and in the other times he went to work. On some days, Claire would go with him to his classes. On other days, Alex would go with him. It was like they each had developed a sixth sense where he was concerned. They seemed to be able to see the way that he was withdrawing more and more into himself. Sam saw too, but he was knee deep in his this thing, and all that he seemed to offer were mere phrases of encouragement, 'we'll figure this out,' or 'we've got this,' or 'good job team.' Dean was reminded of all of the times that Sam had said before that they'd save Cas only to have his words proved false.

Charlotte seemed to sense some change in him too. She made an effort toward spending more time with him. She also did her best to give him space when he seemed to be at his wit's end. It was how they found themselves on the last day of finals sitting together in Dean's office grading papers. Charlotte could have been in her own office, but they got something out of the silent companionship that the activity brought to them.

An hour in and Dean had just ten more papers to go. He was fast. Plus, most of the test had been completed on Scantrons, life's greatest blessing. He glanced over at Charlotte, who was studiously reading through a bunch of Blue Books that she must have used for short responses to her test. "You know what's faster to grade than Blue Books?" Dean waited for her to look up. When she did he answered, "Everything."

She wrinkled her face up into a look of displeasure. "Not all of us have the luxury. Philosophical comprehension can't be tested in such a mechanical manner."

Dean laughed at her and said, "Sucks to be you."

"Mature."

"I know. You know what else?" Dean jostled his stack of exams and Scantrons into a neat stack. "I'm done grading. Hello, summer break."

"Asshole." She began stuffing her Blue Books into her satchel and got up to go. "Well, celebratory drinks should be had when I finish. I'll call you when I'm done."

"Do." He got up and walked to the door as she was gathering her things. He started to open his door as she picked up her purse. She froze, hand hovering as she leaned. "Charlotte?" He stepped closer, reaching out to her as he did. Her body snapped back into a stiff, straight posture. She shook and her mouth fell open.

Light surrounded her and she spoke, looking at Dean as she did so with a dead eyed stare that seemed to actually just be seeing right through him. "Time is passing. You have one month to arrive at the coordinates that have been given to you."

Dean's hand fell back to his side from where it had hovered in the space between them. "What have you done to Charlotte? This is not okay. She did not consent to this."

"You are wrong. She consented to this long ago." The voice was not hers. It was lower, and rough like it was not something that was typically used. "Get to the site."

Charlotte was shaking now, and Dean reached out to her despite the fact that it wasn't her in the driver's seat. "Charlotte! Tell it to get out. Cast it out!"

She looked at him and light glowed out of her eyes, blindingly bright. She opened her mouth to speak and a small noise, came out, like her voice and not whatever it was that was controlling her. Then it spoke again. "I'm not harming her. Dean, get to the site. It will all make sense there."

The light seemed to flow out all around her now. Her head tipped back and her mouth was open, then the light shot away from her. She fell toward the floor. Dean caught her up and held her. "Charlotte, Charlotte. Come on, be okay. Be okay. Shit, shit, shit." He rocked her back and forth. _Not her. Oh God, not her too. Please don't do this. Don't take her too._

She opened her eyes. First it was a flutter of her lids, then wide open shock. "Dean," she choked out, and then promptly threw up on him.

* * *

Dean was worried about Charlotte. He got cleaned up as best he could and drove her back to his apartment. She wasn't talking. He tried asking her simple questions. Nothing. She walked just fine and even carried her satchel and purse. Dean would have carried them for her, but her movements to collect them were so mechanical that he didn't want to intervene. He settled a hand on her lower back and directed her out the door and to his car.

When they got to the apartment, he got out and she waited for him to come around and open her door. She still did not talk. Normally, she was not one to wait for help with doors and such. Charlotte was no damsel in distress, except right now, Dean thought that she was in a great deal of distress. There was a sickly grey hue that seemed to blanket her features. "Be okay, Charlotte. Please be okay." She just looked at him and then straight ahead. He directed her into the building just as he had earlier to get her to his car.

When they got to his apartment and safely inside, He closed the door and noticed how everyone was staring at them, like they knew that something was deeply wrong. Sam was the first to speak. "Dean?" Charlotte seemed to lose her strength again and started to sink to the floor. Dean wrapped an arm around her and then lifted her, carrying her to the couch. He set her down and the others quickly rushed to his side. "What happened?"

"It was like it was with Chuck. She got a vision or something. Actually, she was being used like a vessel to speak for something." Dean was down in a crouch, holding her arm like he could will her back to normalcy.

"What did she say?" Chuck asked as he came down to a crouch too alongside Dean. He also looked a little worse for wear. Dean glanced around and saw Alex hovering in the doorway to his room.

Dean replied, "She said we have one month to get to the site." Chuck looked back at Claire and then everyone was casting glances at each other without saying what they were all thinking. "What the Hell are you all doing?"

"Something happened here too," Sam said. He pointed at Dean's room and said, "Come see." Dean got up and followed him to his room. Alex stepped aside to let him pass. Laid out on his bed was Paul. He looked like he had been through something intense. His hair was a wild mess, and his shirt was a little filthy but also looked like someone had tried to clean it up.

"What happened to him?" Dean was at his side. He settled a hand on Paul's forehead and then ran a finger down to his neck to check for a pulse.

"He had a vision or something." Sam moved to his side and stared down with him. "He said we have one month to get to the site. Then he threw up a bit."

"Sounds like what happened with Charlotte." Dean was still touching Paul's neck. He stopped, pulling his hand back to his side.

Sam moved closer to his side and said, "Why would we both get the same message? Also, ours was in stereo. Chuck got a vision too. He just recovered faster. Doesn't make sense." Sam sat down next to Paul and reached across him to retrieve a blanket that was on the side. He pulled it over the reverend.

"What was he even doing here?"

"He comes by sometimes when you work. He researches with us."

"He's never been here when I've been here. How long's this been going on?"

Sam looked away and then back at Dean and said, "Since not long after you spoke with him. He said he didn't want you to feel awkward, so he would only come to help when you were out."

"And you only thought to share this little tidbit now? Don't you think that I deserved to know this?" Dean moved away from the bed to pace about angrily for a bit.

"It wouldn't have mattered. Why would you need to know? He was already going to go with us and help. What difference would it have made if he was here, researching?"

"The fact that you didn't share it is the problem. It's like you thought that something was wrong about it, or it's like you thought that I'd be upset, so you were trying to protect me. How do I know you won't keep other stuff from me?"

"I won't. This just wasn't important. It was just a secret because he didn't want to feel awkward, and he didn't want you to feel awkward." Sam got up and looked like he was going to storm out.

"Bullshit, Sam." Dean got between him and the door. "No secrets. None. You hear me?"

"Oh, now you're getting all high and mighty about secrets? Really Dean. This wasn't some earth shattering thing. It was a choice that came about only because you would feel awkward, not because we were up to no good. Hell, we were in your house. You could have randomly discovered at any time and it would have been no big deal. It's only a big deal now, because of this." Dean stepped back from Sam a bit. He still felt the anger coursing through him. "And another thing, let's just be a little happy that he had us here to help him. What if he had gotten the vision somewhere else?"

Dean tipped his head to the side to process that one. "Huh?" He wondered how it was possible that Sam could see it this way. "Seriously, Sam?"

"What?"

"It wouldn't have happened to him if he had been elsewhere. This..." He stopped and pointed at Paul, "This happened because he was with us. You think he would have been the happy vision getter if he had been alone in his office?"

"Uh, I guess I did."

Dean waved his arms about and said, "We are responsible for this, Sam. We're always responsible for this. We can't do anything without dragging people into our mess. Nothing is worth this. They are innocent, and we are going to destroy them just by knowing them!" Dean felt his breath coming to him in gasps now. It was stabbing him with the reality of his words. He looked back down at Paul, the sickly pallor of him and his spent, dishevelled posture on the bed, made Dean quake with memories of another time and another hopeless moment.

Sam came to him and tried to settle a hand on him. Dean shrugged him off with some force. "Dean." He tried again and then backed off. "I'm sorry. What should we do?"

Dean just looked at him and said, "I don't know. I thought that it was enough to get out of the hunting life, but maybe I didn't get far enough out of it."

Sam's eyebrows came together like he was feeling Dean's words turning into a piercing headache that was boring deep into him. "Please." It was one word and Dean knew what went unsaid.

"It's not that dire yet, Sam."

"It should never be that dire."

"There's a lot that shouldn't be, but it is. I've been selfish before. I've sacrificed much to protect what I loved, but that's just it. It was always to protect what I loved. It was what I wanted to save. And at what cost, the world, unleashing the Darkness, having a hand in unleashing Lucifer. I've killed myself with a crossroad's contract, let you die, and Cas too. In the end, it's about more than us. If darkness follows us like this. If our very presence is what brings suffering to others, then I don't see the point in continuing. I won't have people I care about, innocent people, dragged into this."

"Dean, promise me you won't do anything like that." Sam squeezed his arm and seemed intent on making Dean really feel it.

"I'll promise you that no one is going to suffer because of me. My life isn't worth that."

Sam seemed like he was not going to let it go. He turned from Dean then and ran his hand up through his hair. He stood at the window now. A little light poured in from outside. The grey around his temples was more noticeable now. His posture even was less imposing, like he too was carrying more than he normally would let on. Dean wondered when Sam had started showing the signs of their age. "So you think I should off myself with you?"

"No."

"Why not? You said that the bad things follow us. That we, WE, are the cause. If you go, shouldn't I go too?" Sam had turned with the last and faced him. The accusation in the tone sat heavy between them. The _how dare you even think it_ was practically spoken.

Sam's tactic made Dean uncomfortable. He hated the logic of it because he couldn't argue with it. He had made the same point not so long ago before the darkness, and before Cas was lost to him. And even now, after all this time, age etching into their bones, Dean could not look at Sam and imagine him gone. _He'd do it too, to prove a point, to make me see it._ Dean sucked in a breath, and because he didn't have words of his own to settle the moment, he repeated Sam's, "It should never be that dire."

Sam just stared at him a few beats and then said, "It never should be. And even when it is, you take a different path right along side me. You got it?"

Dean just nodded at first, then he noticed that Sam was waiting for words. "Okay."

Sam came up to him and pulled him into a hug. "I love you, Dean. It's gonna be okay."

"I don't know how you can be so sure."

"I know because it has to be. The world isn't the same as it use to be. When God intervened, it changed everything."

"I don't need a trip down memory lane. There's a reason that I'm comfortable with the girls hunting and with us kinda leaving the business. The world is not what it was. They're working clean-up and they're capable. Doesn't mean though that things can't turn shitty." Dean looked down at Paul. His chest was rising and falling with deep breaths. He did not seem to be at peace. Dean wondered how Charlotte was doing. He also wanted to run. He wanted to put himself miles away from all of this. He wanted to know what it was to be so far away that no one and nothing could touch him or anyone else around him, because there wouldn't be anyone.

Sam followed his gaze. "I'll go run out to Walmart and pick up another mattress. Getting to be wall to wall people here." He was trying to sound light, but Dean heard the deeper tone.

"Yeah, I'll be here." He followed Sam out to the living room and gave Claire the nod to go sit with Paul. They did that sometimes, the silent communication that happened without words. Alex followed Sam out the door as if they had the same sort of communication that Dean and Claire had. Chuck just hovered in the space between them all. Dean sat on the coffee table and watched Charlotte. She seemed to be sleeping, but, like with Paul, it did not appear to be a peaceful sleep. He took her hand in his and said, "I'm so sorry, so so sorry."

She did not wake, and he'd be by her side until the morning.

* * *

At some point in the night Dean migrated to the recliner next to the couch. At some point, someone covered him with a blanket and a quick kiss to the forehead whispering, "Night Pops," so quietly that he almost didn't hear it. Nothing had changed with either Charlotte or Paul. Sam set up the mattresses where he could. The dining room now had one. If they weren't careful, the landlord would find out about the ever expanding household and might try to raise his rent or more likely kick him out.

His thoughts didn't linger on the housing situation for long though. They drifted back onto other things, that were more painful. He may have provided some comfort to Sam when he gave him his word that he'd not behave like a desperate man. Sam was right about some things. The world was different now. The world was better in many ways. God had seen to that at least.

It was part of the reason why he had such a hard time accepting that God was the one sending the message. It was part of the reason why he just couldn't believe that God was the one that wanted to come back to the world in any more tangible form. He had escaped, after all. It was an escape that Dean envied. Sleep overtook him fully and his mind drifted through memories as it often did.

Tonight his mind went straight to the nights preceding his greatest loss. Cas had been tortured by Amara. Well, actually it was Lucifer that she was tormenting. She mistakenly believed that he was God's favorite son. Dean never lost the sense of pity he felt for this all powerful being that was so completely out of touch with reality and what mattered to anyone.

Dean had begged Cas to eject Lucifer. He had done what he could to convince him that he was needed. Cas was stubborn though, thinking that Lucifer was necessary in the fight against Amara. He didn't see things for what they were. In the end, it wasn't Dean that convinced Cas to kick out Lucifer. It was God.

Past the fighting of biblical proportions, past the sky opening up above, past the plagues, and forces of wills too grand for any human to fully comprehend, was a man just barely hanging on as he tried to save an angel.

And when the fighting was done, and they kinda won, it was Cas that had made the ultimate sacrifice. He gave himself over to God, to be used as the Almighty saw fit. They had been given one moment before the end. Dean prayed out a world of _No's_ and punctuated then with a repeated mantra of _You don't need to do this._

In the silence of the moment, that was much more than a moment, they were given what seemed to amount to an eternity of regrets. Cas stared at him like he wanted to say so much. Instead, his eyes looked sorrowful as he said, "Dean." It was a quiet utterance and filled with regrets and a world of conversations that they'd never get to have.

"Cas, don't." He had even turned to God then and said, "Don't you let him do this."

"It's the only way. She has to be tethered to something." God was speaking through Chuck at this point, but he did not merely look like Chuck. There was something much more powerful evident in his whole demeanor.

Dean tore his eyes from him and looked back to Cas. It was time. Cas turned and started to leave, but then he turned and came back to Dean. He cupped Dean's face in his hands. His thumbs moved lightly, gently against Dean's cheeks. He leaned in and Dean thought that Cas was going to kiss him, right there in front of God and Sam and the end of the world, and he was fine with that possibility. He'd kiss him back, and he'd tell him that he couldn't do this. He'd fight him, even if he was an angel. He'd fight him and keep him from going. He hadn't realized it, but he was crying. Slow moving tears were running down both cheeks.

Cas brushed them aside with his thumbs and rested his forehead against Dean's. He didn't kiss him. He just stood there with him and made everything else go away for a moment. The noise of the storm that was whirling about in the sky above, making everything seem dark despite the fact that it was day. Here in this moment was Cas, and here in this moment was their eternity. They breathed each other's air. Dean held his breath at one point to just feel the burning in his lungs, knowing that what was in him was once in Cas before. In this way they could be close. Cas let him go and he didn't fight him like he had planned.

He watched him walk with quick, deliberate steps out into the battle. He just wanted to stop him. Instead he felt compelled to just stand there watching his world disappear. His body wouldn't obey him. His mind was screaming out to Cas to _stop, please just stop._ He didn't listen though. God followed him into the battle. Dean could do nothing but watch. And it wasn't until Cas' life had ended and God had disappeared, that Dean had regained the ability to move again.

In an empty space, with nothing more to fight, there was Cas. He was gone, but his body was still there as if Dean needed this last bit of torment, this last vision to carry with him to his grave. _And how many more would toss their lives away for Dean Winchester?_ His memory, his dream, took on a darker tone then as Cas' face twisted into new forms. It became Charlotte and then Paul. And if he didn't feel defeated enough, the face became Sam, then Chuck, then Alex, and finally Claire. He was sobbing uncontrollably now, holding the body and rocking back and forth. _Everyone. I'm gonna lose them all._

And if he could, he'd have run, but this was but a dream. And yet it wasn't. It had happened, some of it. When Sam had finally pulled him away from Cas, when he had finally convinced Dean that he needed to go, Dean had at first just stood in the space. He looked down at Cas then up at the sky that was bright and blue. He looked up at the sky and felt the sunlight burning into his skin. He knew that the world had been saved from unspeakable horrors and that Cas had given humanity the hope that came with that blue sky. But for Dean, all that he saw as he gazed up into the empty blue was defeat. He saw his fate. He saw all that would burn away at him. The blue skies were the color of Cas' eyes once death had taken him. They would mock him, and so he would seek his comfort in the dark with only the moon and stars to brighten his vision. Even that though wasn't really comfort. It was just something that he could tolerate, something that would remind him of his fate, something that would keep him from living a life that would ever include much in the way of hope.


	13. Chapter 13

When he woke in the morning, it was to Charlotte staring at him from the couch. He jumped up and was at her side in an instant. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she said. Her tone was different, and it sent Dean back from her a bit.

"Are you sure?" Dean wanted to reach out to her, just feel that she was really there.

"Yes, Dean. I am well." She sounded clipped and mechanical. It was as if she wasn't quite back to her old self yet. She sat up and even that move was stiff. And it was then that Dean really started to focus on her.

"Charlotte?" Dean did reach out now. He set his hand on hers. She did not move.

She stared at him long and deeply. He felt as though she was seeing right through him. He squeezed her hand. It was cold. She said, "I suppose there's no sense in subterfuge. Never was much good at it anyway."

Dean let her hand go then and moved minutely away from her. She was different. Her eyes held age and her face was somehow not as it had been before. He knew her, and yet he also didn't. It was then that he noticed that something was off with more than just Charlotte. It was the whole apartment. It had the stillness of a mausoleum. It had the stillness of space in the deepest, darkest pockets of it. He felt the cold next, the itch of it just beneath his skin, clawing toward his bones. He cast a glance around the room at the spaces that held Sam, Claire, and Alex. They were still, laid out in the varied postures of sleep. Yet there was no rise or fall to their chests. "No," he whispered as he brought his eyes back to Charlotte. "No."

The cold in the room intensified. She moved toward him. He stood and backed away from her around the coffee table. He wanted to keep himself between her and Sam and his girls. "I'm sorry." It was not what he expected. _An apology?_

"Has it always been you?" Dean had stopped moving now, as if the cold had finally fully frozen him in place.

"No." She paused and then added, "And yes." She moved closer and brought a hand up to his face. Her fingers trailed over his cheek and left behind traces of a deeper cold. Dean thought that if a mirror were present that he'd likely see frost there. "I am truly sorry."

"What happened to Charlotte?" He was fighting to maintain a sense of calm. He schooled his voice into something rough and powerful. It was difficult, to push aside the shaking that found it's way there.

She dropped her hand back to her side and said, "She's still here. I've settled her into a nice memory. I spent some time in it myself for several years. She can handle a few minutes more."

"Why now?"

"What do you mean?"

Dean involuntarily brought his arms up to hug himself against the cold. "I mean, you've been tucked away for several years. Why did you emerge now?"

"Oh, that is privy information, Dean. Let's just say that timing is everything. Well, that and proximity has its draws." Dean didn't know what she meant, but she continued before he could interrupt with a question. "I'd been quite content to imagine that all of this was just gone." She waved her hands out at her sides to signify more than just the room. "It was a relief to no longer have my old responsibilities."

"The reaping?"

"That and everything else." She turned away from him and moved back to the couch to sit and just stare at him. "I'm going to give Charlotte the driver's seat. You seem to like her better anyways. I'll be there though, listening. When the time comes, I'll be back to do my duty."

"And what's that?" Dean felt like he didn't really want to know.

"It's time that you were leaving. Get your people together and go."

"What's your plan? What are you going to do?" Dean was moving toward her, which was stupid in hindsight.

She lifted a hand to him and blasted him back to the seat behind him. Then with a slight twist of her wrist all of his limbs squeezed close. It was like he was being held in a vise that was surrounding his whole body. "My plan is to do my duty, just like I said that I would. I've carried this long enough. I will welcome the freedom." She eased up her hold on Dean a little, but his lips were quaking now with the cold that seemed to be overwhelming him. "She will know about this conversation, but it will be like a dream, just like so much of her existence. When I found her, she was a terribly broken thing. Without me she would be that again for the few spare, painful moments that she'd be able to live without me holding her together."

"You could heal her." Dean could only squeeze out those few words.

"No, Dean, some things only God can put back together. I've never been a healer. Besides, she's no spring chicken. She's had a good, long life, seen things, done things. She'll accept the end when it comes." She got up then and moved to Dean. She leaned back down to him again and touched his cheek. "I did not think that I could like you. She changed that though. You owe her a great deal."

"Billie, please." He was shaking now in a hard jarring manner that would have knocked him to the ground if she wasn't keeping him in place.

"Sorry, Dean." She stepped away. "Everything is cold now." Her hands lay straight along her sides. "Help her, help us to do what we must."

"Why would I do that?" He said past gritted teeth.

"Because you love her. Because you love all of them." She waved a hand out around the room. "Because it just might fix things that are rather broken. And in the end, if you do things just right, I won't be around to keep my promise to you regarding the big empty. I'd think that might be motivation enough." Her head fell back now, and her body fell onto the couch again. A few moments passed like the world was gradually thawing after a long hard winter. Charlotte opened her eyes and sat up slowly.

Dean felt the cold leave his body by degrees. She was looking at him. Her eyes were watery and did not carry the frightening hint of eternity in them. He tried to move from the chair, but his limbs felt stiff from before. Instead he said, "Charlotte?"

"Dean?" She moved toward him. "Did that just happen?"

 _So not quite like a dream. She remembers._ "Yes."

* * *

Everyone was milling around in the living room and kitchen now. Someone would have to do a grocery run. There was almost nothing left to eat. Breakfast was a total of three scrambled eggs and a pile of toast with peanut butter. At least there was coffee. Paul sat next to Charlotte now. They both looked tired, worn down despite the rest that they had seemed to have been getting before.

Dean had questions. They all had questions. No one had answers. Dean was sitting back in the recliner again just staring at Charlotte and Paul across from him. Sam drifted in and leaned against the wall, casually eating a bit of peanut butter toast. "So, neither of you knew that you were vessels?"

Paul looked up and said, "Am I a vessel?"

Dean said, "Seems so." He was feeling overwhelmed by it all. He had managed to tell the rest about most of what happened in an economy of words.

"I still don't know what that really means. I mean, I don't think that I am anyone but me." Paul had his hands pressed against his thighs and he looked a bit fragile.

Dean said, "Something or someone spoke through you. It's possible that you are just a prophet right now, but that also makes you a vessel."

"I didn't pray for this. When I prayed for help with my sermons, I didn't ask for this." His voice cracked a little.

Charlotte settled a hand on him and said, "I don't think that we have anything to be afraid of in this."

Dean slumped forward and cradled his face in his hands. "All this time."

He felt her hands on him. He would have shrugged her off and maybe even would have left the room, but she spoke. "She fogged up the glass, Dean. I didn't know. It all still seems hazy."

"You had to know something was off." He did move now to free himself from her hands. "You don't carry around a reaper and have no clue. You don't live for generations in a world full of people that die normal human deaths without getting a clue."

"I can't make you believe me Dean. I can say that I felt drawn to you. I did. I sought you out and likely even came to this town, got a job at that college, just because you were there or would be there. I feel you even now. You're this gentle hum of energy just tugging away at something in me. I told myself though that it was just the loneliness. I told myself that you were kind, and I just really needed that in my life."

"And you just somehow overlooked the long life and chalked it up to...what?" Dean looked to Sam for support. Sam just watched.

"I don't know how to explain that. She made things make sense, and when she couldn't, she made things foggier. Some of my life seems like a vivid dream, or it's like I'm seeing someone else's life playing out on a big screen. It is easy to rationalize away what one knows for what the world says is normal." She got up and moved back to the couch but didn't sit down. She turned back to Dean and said, "Our friendship was and is real. I've never been close to anyone, at least not since…" She stopped and looked away again and then continued, "I just think you should know that all of this for me was real."

"I wish I could believe that." Dean got up and grabbed his jacket.

"When we met, it was the first time in a long time that I didn't feel lonely anymore. If you can't believe me, I get that, but I hope you will in time. You're my friend, Dean, and I'd do anything for you."

Dean's hand was on the door to leave. "Yeah, except tell me who you really are." He turned the handle and opened the door.

Sam said, "Where're you going?"

"Need some air. We also need food. I'll be back."

* * *

Sam caught up to him two blocks from home. "Wait up." Sam was a little out of breath, but Dean didn't slow up.

"Not in the mood for a conversation right now, Sam." Dean stuffed his hands into his pockets and pressed onward. It was still early in the morning, and the chill of the night was still in the air.

"You're never in the mood for conversation. If I had to wait for you to be ready, we'd never talk." Sam laughed a little, a clear attempt at lightening the mood.

Dean felt Sam grab his arm and this brought them both to a stop. "Can you just let me have a few moment's peace? I just need to clear my head."

"Then clear it with me. Tell what's up."

"We've lost it all. I've lost it all."

"What do you mean? Everyone is alive. No one is lost." Sam kept his hand on Dean's arm. He gave it a squeeze of emphasis with his words.

"Charlotte." He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he looked up to the clear blue summer sky. "I missed it. Who she was. I mean, how dumb do you have to be to not see her for who she was. I had to tell myself a million times, in a million ways that it was a coincidence. She just looked a Hell of a lot like Billie. Logically, the truth would have been easier to accept."

"If it helps, there are differences. There's humanity in Charlotte's eyes that Billie didn't have. It's why I accepted it. Charlotte doesn't look like she'd blink you out of existence or toss you into the empty. One look at Billie and there was no doubt that you'd be gone in an instant if she wished for it." Sam let Dean's arm go and stared off for a moment down the street toward the supermarket. "Let's walk." He nodded toward the store.

Dean complied. "She's gonna die."

"Why do you think that?"

"Billie pretty much confirmed it. She said a lot of things that I couldn't repeat in there." He looked at Sam and then back at the sidewalk as they continued. "She said that she's what is holding Charlotte together, and that if she is cast out or if she leaves, that Charlotte will spend her last few moments of existence in pain. She also said that soon she will be gone, which implies that Charlotte will be too."

"Sometimes, they're wrong." Sam stopped walking again. Dean came to a stop just ahead of him and turned back.

"Who?"

"All of these creatures and beings that we encounter. They seem to all think that they know our fate, the fate of the world. They seem to always think that our lives are all hurdling down this path. Well, how many times have they been wrong, Dean?" He waited.

"Depends on your perspective," Dean replied.

"No, it doesn't. They'be been wrong nearly every time." Sam started walking again and Dean had to catch up. "So, the apocalypse is gonna happen. Boom, nope it didn't. The Darkness will destroy the world. Nope again. You and I are gonna get worn by Michael and Lucifer. Well they were half right on that one." Sam did not go to the supermarket. Instead he crossed the street to the park. It was still too early for it to have kids in it. Sam pointed at a bench and they sat.

"You're making it out to be simple when it's not." Dean folded his hands in front of himself and stared off at the empty world in front of him. Without children the park seemed eerie and cold. There was a red slide, a swing set, and a wooden climbing tower that would ring with the excitement of children, but for now the little breeze blew the empty swings and the trees cast shadows on it all.

"Lay it all out for me Dean. If you don't, I'll never see it on my own."

Dean breathed in and out. He closed his eyes and pictured where they were going. The warehouse and the vast field next to it, the distant hills with the blanket of daytime fog rolling over them. He could see it all like he was really there again. He spoke in a quiet tone, as if someone else might hear him, but there was no one else. It was just Sam, his one constant in all of this.

"I see us going there. It'll be like before. Chuck will be there, and Billie will be there too. I'll stand at your side and watch things play out, powerless to stop anything bad from happening just like last time. Only now, we'll have Paul there and Alex too. And instead of Cas, we'll have Claire. He'd have wanted her far from all of this. He would have wanted her protected at all costs from anything that could truly harm her."

Dean breathed in and out. Sam did not interrupt his words. Dean continued, "We'll gather there, in the place that I lost him. We'll speak the words and burn the symbols as we've been told. Whatever it is that keeps speaking to us, it ain't Cas. He'd just come right out with a, 'It's me Dean,' and I'd know. I'd feel it too, if it was him. It's not, and no matter how much you all say otherwise, it doesn't change a thing."

A little breeze sent the trees to stirring, but Dean kept his eyes closed and his mind focused on the vision. He could almost see the sunlight as it seemed to pierce past his eyelids. It was the sunlight of the park. It was the sunlight of the past. "And God didn't leave alone. He took them with him, Amara and Lucifer. He bound himself up with them and tied them all up to Cas like he was their new Cain. He sent Cas away, took his life for what? For mankind? He couldn't find a solution that would save Cas?"

Dean's breathing was ragged and pained. He went on, "So when Chuck says that it's God calling us there, I feel even more reluctance. I have no desire to go there and pull him back to earth. Why should he get to come back if Cas doesn't?" Dean held his face in his hands and blocked the light that was blanketing him. "So then that leaves us with Lucifer. I see no reason to help him out do you?"

He didn't expect an answer, but he got one anyway. "I doubt that it's him."

"So the Morningstar, the motherfucking angel of light couldn't possibly be the one covering us in light and being cagey, pardon the pun, about his identity. Yeah, guess not." Dean's tone was bordering on angry. Sam said nothing. "So maybe it's her then. We just keep saying him when we talk about the prophetic words being shared out through our friends. Amara was always willing to send painful messages through people even if it meant that they might die. Maybe it's her."

Sam said, "It doesn't seem like her M.O. Plus, none of them have died or even suffered really from the visions. It really doesn't seem like her."

Dean opened his eyes then and looked at Sam. "Then who do you think it is, Sam?"

"I believe that it's God and that he won't come back without Cas." He stared steadily at Dean like he just couldn't see it any other way. There was confidence in his words.

"If he comes back, then they come back too. They're one now. And what will that do to the world we live in? It's not just getting Cas or God back that we have to consider. We have to consider what'll happen to the barriers too. It's all been sealed up tight. Hell is closed and so is Purgatory and Heaven. We only have to worry about the ones that were left behind. Soul's pass over and so do the reapers, but everything else stays put. We mess with the glue holding that together, and the world pays, Sam. Humanity pays."

"We don't know that bringing God back would do that?"

"We don't know that it wouldn't. If what we did that day sealed everything up, then how can you think that bringing them back would not impact that? Cas wouldn't want us to risk humanity for something like this."

"God wouldn't want to risk humanity either. That's why I don't think that what we're being asked to do will risk anyone. I think that it was always a part of some grand plan." Sam reached over and rested a hand on Dean's shoulder. "We have to try. Can't you feel it? We have to try."

Dean closed his eyes again. His mind flitted over the last moments once more, over the way that it felt when everything was lost. God had said, 'To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.' Dean had quipped, "Yeah, heard that song before." Chuck or God, Dean didn't differentiate at the time, pressed into his space, staring deep into his eyes. He swore later that God had spoken to him then, but Sam claimed that he had heard nothing. Dean heard, 'Make your peace, for it will be long before you will feel as though any of this was worth it.'

He didn't know why he had chosen to repeatedly set aside this moment, but he did. He thought that it was perhaps his anger toward God. He didn't want to remember speaking with him, let alone the fact that he didn't fight him after this. He tried to cling to Cas, to fight Cas' will, but that was different. He didn't let him go; although, it certainly felt like he had. He watched him go and he stood, powerless in the face of all that was to come. He watched as the others joined God and Cas. He watched as the light grew to a blinding wash of utter brilliance. It swept out over them all. He had to close his eyes against it.

And later when he held Cas in his arms. He felt the absence of him. He knew that he had lost his chance to tell him all that he felt, all that he thought and longed for. He held him and kissed past his hair, whispering into the move a world of 'sorrys,' a world of 'no,' a world of 'don't leave, please don't leave.'

When Sam finally got him to move away, to give up the seemingly eternal vigil, it should have been over. He told Sam to give Cas a hunter's funeral. He couldn't watch that, but he'd be damned if anyone would have a shot at wearing Cas around. He had stumbled away and had left Sam to it. He didn't come back. He didn't take Sam's calls in the days, weeks, and months that followed. For all he knew, Sam had dealt with much after he had left.

He slowly opened his eyes. "It will be long before you feel that any of this was worth it," Dean said.

"What's that?" Sam asked.

Dean looked at him. "God said that before he took Cas away."

"I remember now. You said that he spoke before he left. I didn't hear him."

"Yes. I told you about it, and then told you to give Cas a hunter's funeral." Dean noticed something in Sam's face that shifted, a barely there twitch at the corner of his eye. "What?"

"What?" Sam looked away.

Dean got up and loomed over him. "What did you not tell me? Something happened. Tell me."

"It's not important. I didn't tell you because it would have upset you. You didn't need that."

"You better start fucking talking right now, Sam or so help me God, I'll…"

Sam interrupted, "I couldn't give him a hunter's funeral."

"Why not?"

"He wouldn't burn. His body's still there. I couldn't do a thing for it."

Dean grabbed him and made him look at him. "What do you mean he's still there?"

"I mean, I've been back there, and Cas is still there. His body hasn't changed. I laid him out on the pyre, and I set it on fire. It burned, and he didn't. When I finally gave up, I couldn't bring myself to bury him. He looked so alive. He wasn't. It had been hard enough just doing the first burn. When it didn't work, when his body was laying in the ashes, I just couldn't do it again. I left him lying there. I left him in the warehouse and locked the door. I've gone back since, and he's still there, looking just like he did the day that we left."


	14. Chapter 14

How many days could he spend not talking with Sam? He thought that he might be able to avoid words forever. He certainly had enough practice. Sam tried to strike up conversations as if he had forgotten that Dean was not interested in responding. He tried to seem casual about it all, but Dean didn't cave. The others noticed, and presumably Sam explained it all to them. Charlotte and Paul had gone to their respective homes, so neither of them were likely made aware of the situation.

Dean moved about like a man on a mission, and Chuck, Claire, and Alex made a point of keeping from getting in his way. He gathered their research and poured over it all. He read up on the items and on the lines of Enochian that had to be said in unison by three participants. Dean finally decided to ask Claire about that. She replied, "We've determined that the three are now Paul, Chuck, and Charlotte. I mean they are the ones that had the visions. Plus, one of the three had to be a man of faith. We've already determined that Paul is that." She didn't let on that anything was weird about him finally talking.

He set down the tablet and gave her his attention. "Were there specifics on what the others had to be?"

"Chuck said that it was not clear. We all reread what he had typed up before. It said, 'There will be three, and they will be those that see.' We talked about it a little after the stuff with Paul and Charlotte. They were given visions. They were used to speak to us. I think that means that they are the ones."

"I guess that makes sense."

"So does that mean that you're onboard with this then?" She reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. She had her hair pulled back and mostly tucked into a knit cap. It gave her a younger appearance. This made Dean waver in his feelings concerning her participation.

"I'm going. I'll see this through."

"Are you gonna talk to Sam?"

Dean looked over his shoulder to see if Sam was lurking. He wasn't. Then he remembered that Sam had gone out with Alex for something. "Not planning on it."

"Ever?"

"I have nothing to say to him."

"You have plenty to say to him. You're just angry. You need to talk. Go get it over with. I can't imagine us all riding together with you two doing the grumpy silence thing."

"We won't be riding together. This is a two vehicle trip. He can go in one, and I'll drive the Impala. Unless you have a hidden mini-van tucked away somewhere." Dean cringed a little as he said it.

"Nope, just the truck. I'm not sure that your approach here is healthy." She threaded their fingers together and said, "What'd he do? He wouldn't tell us. Just said that it was bad, and that you had every right to be mad." Dean felt as though he had been punched in the gut. If it were possible, he managed to feel even more anger toward his brother then. _He didn't tell her. How could he keep this from her?_

Dean would have made an excuse to leave the room just to avoid answering. She had his hand though. He looked off out the window. He'd managed to kill five days since the trek to the park. They were running out of time, and he couldn't seem to fully get past his desire to avoid it all. He had almost accepted so much about this nebulous mission, but the idea of Cas lying there in the warehouse set him back entirely. He never thought he'd see him again. He didn't know if he could handle it now. He'd made progress. He was functioning in polite society. He even made a friend. Yeah, she wasn't entirely human, but so what. He was doing exactly okay. He wouldn't be after all of this. He knew what seeing Cas like that would do to him. Yet somehow, he also knew that he couldn't escape this.

He looked into Claire's eyes and contemplated the awkwardness that would come from forcing his hand free. He contemplated it, because he wanted to run again. He couldn't see an easy way to tell her what was in store for them. How do you tell someone that they are about to go see the body of their long dead friend? How do you tell someone that they are about to go see the body of their long dead father? He suddenly understood the difficulty that Sam had faced when he chose to keep the secret. He spoke then, because he didn't want to carry the added guilt of hypocrisy.

"Cas is there." He felt her startle with the words. He kept her hand. He added, "When Cas died, I told Sam to give him a hunter's funeral. I left. I didn't stay to see that it was done. Sam told me, just the other day, that Cas' body did not burn. It is still there in the warehouse."

Claire found her voice and said, "What the Hell, Dean. We can't see that. We can't. Shit."

"I know. I'm freaking out a little too." Dean covered her hand with his second hand. He held her gaze as he spoke. "I know that I have to go there. I know that. I just don't think that it will end well for me. You don't have to go there though, Claire. I don't think that you should."

She was shaking her head. "Why didn't he bury him? I mean, he's just laying in that warehouse rotting away. Why?"

"Sam said that he hasn't decomposed. He apparently looks just like he did on that day seven years ago."

Now she focused on him fully. "What?"

"His body is as it was."

Claire made an almost inhuman noise. A sob that came from some deep place. She slumped over a bit and shook and cried. Dean pulled her in and held her to his chest. He smoothed her hair down and held on, trying not to fall into the same level of grief. "My dad. It'll be like looking at my dad. And Cas. And they're dead. Oh God." And then it all became muffled and incoherent. Dean just held her and hoped that he'd find the words to make it okay.

* * *

Sam and Alex returned. Claire was still in Dean's arms, slightly calmer. Her eyes were puffed up and red. Alex took one look at them and rushed to Claire's side. "What happened?" And then Claire was crying again.

Dean moved her into Alex's arms and said, "Why don't you two go to my room to talk. It's quiet in there."

Alex nodded and moved Claire in that direction. Sam watched them go and then turned his attention back to Dean. "What happened?"

Dean looked away for a moment and considered remaining silent. He looked back at Sam though, and saw that he looked utterly defeated. It was as if he had already resigned himself to never hearing Dean speak to him again. "I told her about Cas."

Sam startled a bit, but then came over. He took a seat at the table. "Is she gonna be okay?"

"She's upset. I don't think that she should go. It's worse for her. She'll be seeing Cas and her dad. It's like she's losing them both again. If she's this bad now, what'll seeing him do to her?" Dean pressed his palms into his eyes and tried to will it all away.

In a still quiet voice, Sam said, "I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean looked at him and said, "No secrets. You have to tell me everything, even the bad stuff."

"I have. That was the last thing, I swear." Sam looked at him with such earnestness that Dean felt like they had shot back in time nearly twenty years. It was like looking into the face of his kid brother and not the eyes of a man that had been to Hell and back.

"I believe you. Just know that I need to be told if anything comes up. If you think something is off, if you think that something is going to be potentially bad, even a little, I want you to tell me. You have to do this. Promise?"

"I promise. No secrets, not even the ones that'll hurt you. I'll share it all. If it's in my head, you'll hear about it."

Dean set his hand on Sam's arm and said, "It was hard telling her. I get why you didn't want to tell me."

"I shoulda told you though." He looked away a second and then said, "I was so afraid of what you'd do. I thought it would be the final straw. As it was, I lost you for the better part of that first year. I thought you'd just be done, entirely and completely done."

"I would have." He didn't elaborate on what that meant. They both knew. "You were right not to tell me then. I wasn't strong enough. I'm barely strong enough now. I can't promise you that I'll be okay after seeing him like that, and I'm sorry about what that'll mean to you."

"Dean," Sam blinked rapidly and then swiped the back of his hand over his eyes. "I hope you know that you matter to more than just me. If you checked out," he stopped again and swallowing continued, "It's not just me that would feel that loss. Please make a choice before we get there that takes into consideration what you can handle. And by handle, I mean what won't kill you. I need you to be okay, but so does Claire." He swiped at his eyes again and said, "You two have become rather close since Cas," he choked up a bit. "You've become like a father to her. How many father figures can she lose before it ruins her?"

"Sam." It was all he could say at first. It was hard sometimes to do what Sam wanted, to just live. He was tired. He was so damn tired. And just when everything seemed tolerable, like he could maybe make it to the end of the road, the old man death that hunters never got, then he gets pulled back into the life. "It's not fair, I know. I don't know what else to say."

They sat in silence and Sam made an effort toward pulling himself together. Dean focused on a spot on the carpet in the livingroom. He thought about going out for a walk, clearing his head, but Sam would just follow him or worse, stay at the apartment worrying. Instead he took Sam's hand and gave it a squeeze. Sam looked at him like the careful facade that he was creating might fall apart again. "I'm gonna do whatever I can to make things okay for you. I got you through it before. I'll be damned if I'm gonna lose you now."

Dean held onto Sam and made his silent choice. They'd leave the next day at dawn. He'd face down his fate, whatever it was.

* * *

Somehow, Dean had managed to get the weird end of the stick. He was driving down the long empty road with three passengers, Chuck, Paul, and Charlotte. Somehow, Sam had gotten lucky and was riding with Claire and Alex.

Deep down, Dean took comfort from the situation. As much as he was not enjoying the idea of a million hours with a trio of potential vessels in the Impala, he really didn't want them to be riding with the others. After all, Charlotte was essentially Death, and if anyone was riding with Death, Dean thought, it should be him.

He stared straight ahead at the lonely road and the dusty pink sky. In the rearview mirror he caught a glimpse of Chuck and Paul, their faces aglow with the light of their tablets. Sam gave them a bit more light reading to do before the end of the journey. Out the back window, he could see the bright headlights of Claire's pick-up. The truck was framed in the slowly brightening early morning sky. If he stared back hard enough he might just see some stars.

Charlotte was riding shotgun. Her hands were folded on her lap and she was the very picture of serenity. "Are you doing okay, Dean?" Her words were quiet, but the silence of the car made everything seem loud.

"Yes." He didn't want the feelings chat that he sensed was coming. He silently wondered when his life had become one long dissertation on feelings.

"I wish it wasn't weird. I regret that it became weird." She was staring straight ahead when he glanced at her. She continued, "The first time that we ran into each other outside of Jefferson Hall, you remember that?"

Dean looked over at her and saw that she was staring at him now. "Yeah, I knocked you over. Can't believe how many papers we had to save from the wind."

She laughed and said, "Yeah, I was new. I think that I printed out every possible lecture for the year before I even taught the first class."

"Were you trying to meet me that day?"

"No." She looked away again and said, "It's like I said before. I was drawn to you. I'd hazard a guess that we all were and that we never quite knew why."

Dean glanced into the rearview mirror and saw that Chuck and Paul were listening. "Were you guy's feeling this so called Dean magnetism?"

Chuck laughed at him and said, "I was actively seeking you out. I felt a pull to this part of the U.S. I suppose that was you."

Paul looked away and didn't say anything so Dean said, "What about you, Paul?"

He made eye contact with Dean in the mirror and said, "I think that I obviously felt something. I made an ass of myself about it."

Dean felt a little heat in his cheeks as he turned his gaze back to the road in front of him. "Uh, oh, yeah. Sorry."

Charlotte, luckily enough, decided to throw him a save. "Billie never gave me details, and most days I felt like I was living a normal life. Yeah, I didn't age, and I'd eventually have to move to a new place, but for the most part, my life was rather normal."

"Normal?" He side-eyed her as he said it.

"Yeah, as normal as any of us get. I had jobs, and I dated. I did little things here and there. Frankly, the last seven years have been rather peaceful too."

"And before?"

"Before what?"

"What was it like, say, eight years ago or ten?"

Her brows came together a little, and she turned to face the blurred landscape outside the passenger window. "I don't remember a lot of it. I stayed tucked away, let her have the reins." She hugged herself a little then as if she felt a chill.

"You okay, Charlotte?" Dean was gonna reach out to her. He didn't though. Something about the tone that she had before made him feel like she wouldn't welcome it.

"I am." She looked at him, keeping her head pressed against the window. She seemed smaller then than she had seemed to be before. "I don't know how many vessels you've spoken with, but I've never known any that got to be in charge of their forms once they say yes. Once you say yes, you're giving them certain rights. Most have resigned themselves to that fate before they even consent. Sometimes life is such that no other choice feels at all appealing. That's how it was for me anyway."

"What happened to you before?" Dean had not considered her life before. He knew the little details that she had shared about what he thought was her normal, recent, human life, but now he had to question even all of that.

"I've lived many lives, Dean. Before Billie though, I was not the confident, little ball of philosophy and friendliness that you see today. I suppose that it was a life not so dissimilar to your own."

"Really? How so?"

"It is a long story."

"Not sure if you noticed, but we have a long drive ahead of us." Dean ended with a small laugh to ease the tension.

Charlotte sighed and said, "It's more than that too. I have done my best to not think about it so much. It's there. It's always there, eating away at my mind, but I can redirect my thoughts to quieter things. Thinking about it much will have an ill-effect I think."

"Oh, I...I'm sorry. I just wondered is all. I felt like I knew you, and yet there's a bunch I'll never really know."

"You know the parts that matter." She took in a deep lungful of air.

"I guess so." Dean glanced over at her.

"I might have to stop abruptly." She looked back to the blurry landscape again. Dean hummed out encouragement. "Long ago, before Billie, before anything resembling an independent life, I found myself attached to "The Philosopher." In the eyes of some, I'd have been seen as a servant. I was, I suppose. I was also there by choice."

Dean interrupted, "Where is 'there'?"

"Alexandria," she whispered. "She showed me mercy when she traveled through Egypt. She was brilliant. She saved me from a life that was base and cruel. She let me follow her. I recorded her teachings and her philosophies."

Dean interrupted again, "Who is she?"

"The Philosopher?"

"Yes."

"Her name is Hypatia. She was one of the few women to have made a mark on the world of philosophy, yet her name has practically been demonized by some. She was a philosopher that saw the importance of a marriage between science and faith. She enlightened leaders and the common folk in equal measure. Most importantly to me though, was that she was kind. She cared more for others than for herself. She was always quick to throw herself into fiery discourse or dangerous situations if it meant that the outcome would be that we had a better world to live in. She was human, and yet now, sometimes I wonder if she was something more. Regardless, she was my focus for many years."

"What do you mean when you say that she may have been something more?"

"I suppose I've just seen a lot now. She could have been an angel, I suppose. Who knows. Some accused her of performing spells or of having magic at her disposal. Still others thought that she had a connection with the pagan gods. This rumor did not serve her well in Alexandria. There were already factions in the region. There were acts of violence perpetrated against various men of faith. Hypatia did her best to soothe the leaders that could do much to exacerbate the problems. She met with them, provided wise counsel, and they chose not to listen."

Dean asked, "So, you helped her with all of this?"

"I don't know that I did much to help. I answered letters for her. She would receive letters from everywhere. They would show up labeled with the words, 'The Philosopher' and nothing more. Everyone of any merit knew and respected her."

Dean interrupted again, "Clearly you cared for her a great deal."

Charlotte didn't answer right away. The miles rolled by and the sky was now bright daytime blue. They would be on this long straight stretch of road for hours. Dean thought that he could close his eyes and they'd still be safely barreling along. The fields on either side of the road were a deep green, clearly still sucking up vitality from the earth that had been rather rain-soaked over the past month. When Charlotte finally spoke again, it was quieter than even before. "She was the closest thing to family I'd ever had. I was a possession before, passed from one to the next. I was a servant to cruel men. When she found me, when she saved me, it was as I was nearing the end of my time." She stopped abruptly.

"What do you mean? The end of your time?" Dean asked.

"Nothing. What matters is that she saved me. The old masters are long dead now. I don't know why I let them have any place in my thoughts."

"But you were in danger. What were you facing when she saved you?"

"It is not something that I can discuss. I've told you the details that I can remember. Most of it is just feelings. When Billie took me away, she asked me about my happiest memories. I told her. She said that I could live in them, and there I would forget the rest, the pain, the loss. I haven't forgotten it all, but it is different now. It is distant like it belongs to someone else."

Dean let go of the steering wheel with one hand and raked his hand up through his hair. "So how do we get from you working for Hypatia to you being Billie's vessel?"

"Hypatia let me accompany her to her last important meeting. She was attempting to soothe tempers between Orestes the prefect of Alexandria and what boiled down to a bishop named Cyril. To be brief, there had been a massacre that came about because many philosophical divergences existed in this one grand melting pot. Hypatia worked with Orestes to try to calm the tempers that were becoming dangerous. Many from Cyril's camp began accusing her of moving Orestes to actions that were more oppressive. She wasn't, but opinions were formed."

"So what happened to her? I'm assuming nothing good." Dean threw a glance at her and saw that a lone tear was snaking its way over the angles of her cheek. He reached out to her and settled a hand on her shoulder as he drove. "I'm sorry, Charlotte. If you don't want to talk about it, I understand."

She looked at him then and said, "I think sometimes it helps to think of what we've lost and who we've lost. Maybe then we haven't really lost them."

"If it's too much though…" he started.

"No," she interrupted. "It's not." Dean let his hand fall back to his side. "One night after we met with Orestes, a group of fanatics were waiting. Who could have supported this behavior? They took us. They dragged her screaming to the Caesareum. Did anyone come out to defend her?"

"I'm guessing no."

"Not a soul. She begged them for mercy. She tried to speak to them like they could be reasoned with. They beat her until she couldn't speak. They tore her clothes from her. Naked and bleeding to death on the floor of their holy place, she stared up to the ceiling as if she could see past this room, past this place of torment to some place beyond all of this. I crawled to her. They let me. They jeered and laughed at us. She begged me with a glance. She wanted me to crawl away. She wanted me to live. I couldn't leave her though."

Dean reached to her again and found her hand. He gave it a squeeze and said, "I'm sorry."

"I couldn't save her either." She looked at Dean like she was saying something more. "Sometimes you can't save the ones that matter most." She took a deep breath and continued. "They pulled me away from her. They made me watch as they tore her to pieces. There were tiles that were being placed in the center room. They were resourceful. They used those to slice into her. I tried to fight them. I tried to move. They held me and made me watch. I watched the light leave her eyes. It took a long time. When they were done, they gave me a swifter treatment. They had used their greater energy on her."

"They killed you?" Dean wondered aloud.

"Almost. They likely thought that I was dead. What did I matter anyway? I was just a servant, a nobody." She stared off out the window, but Dean could tell that she was seeing past the green fields to a darker place, to a past that was so vivid that it seemed to be surrounding her even now in all of its horrors.

"How did Billie become part of this?" Dean noticed how his words seemed to shake her out of herself a little.

She pulled her arms up and seemed to hug herself a little. "She was there to reap Hypatia. The room held but just the two of us and Billie, yet it was loud. The growling night was deafening. I could not move, because of the damage that they had done to my body, but I wanted to move. I wanted to flee. I imagined past the pain a scenario in which my bare feet were speeding my body out of the Caesareum. The noise increased, and with it my terror rose too. I knew what it was, but I could do nothing. My time had come. It was always my fate to end then. The irony of the two events coinciding did nothing to ease my terror. But then Billie…"

"What was the noise?" Dean asked.

Charlotte ignored his question and continued. "She looked at me. She told me that she could change my fate. She offered me salvation at a price. I didn't know that I could consent to such a thing. I did though. She asked for my form, and I gave it to her. She spoke words to the darkness around us and the noise fell away. Her words were old, older than time and anything that existed then even. They had a melody to them though. I felt safe as they swirled out around us into the room. She took Hypatia then. Using my form, she reaped her, speaking words of comfort to her as they left. Billie gave me comfort, and a world of memories to live in as my reward. She took this one day of horror, and gave me an eternity of peace. It was real to me, and Hypatia was there, and everything was good."

"But it wasn't real though," Dean interrupted.

She looked angry, but she schooled the look back into passivity. "It was though." The miles passed by, and Dean estimated that they'd be stopping soon for food and gas. Charlotte continued, "She got to live on in my mind, and I got to live the life that was never mine to begin with. Not only that, but she gave me the reins again and let me live this life and a couple of others before. I have had an eternity to exist and be, an eternity that has been a bonus gift, one that I never should have received. Billie gave me that."

He let the miles pass in silence, and Charlotte seemed to relax a bit more in the time that passed. He glanced back at Chuck and Paul in the back seat. He had nearly forgotten that they were there during the story. Paul looked sad, but he did not speak. Chuck stared off out the side window, chewing on his thumbnail. Dean tried to piece together what Charlotte had told him with what he knew already.

She was a reaper and also a human servant, an ancient scribe to a long dead philosopher that lives on in her memories. He felt a certain kinship with her situation. He thought about her interactions with him over the years. The camaraderie that was so easy and so natural. He wondered how one could push aside thousands of years of life and pretend that everything was just so normal. He wondered how she could do all of that in the name of friendship with someone like him. He thought about that a bit more and remembered that she had felt compelled to find him. A certain sadness washed over him as he thought about that, about how she was pulled to him, to his disaster of a life. He felt regrets for her.

"I'm sorry that you didn't get to live out this life peacefully. I'm sorry that you were compelled to find me." Dean did not look at her as he spoke. He just gripped the steering wheel tight in his hands.

"I have no regrets, Dean. Knowing you has made this life fuller than it ever could have been without you. You are the first friend that I've had in a long time. Hypatia was my friend, though the dynamic seemed on the surface to be master and servant. It was so long ago, yet I still feel the joy of our connection. It is like that with you too. I am happy to have known you and to continue knowing you." She reached up and cupped the side of his cheek. "Don't go all doom and gloom on me yet Winchester. Our journey is nowhere near over."

Dean smiled a little and drove on. Her hand retreated from his cheek. He thought more about her words, her story. He thought more about what she carried, what they all carried. The burden of their lives seemed to press them down under the oppressive summer sky. They carried on though. They each carried on.

* * *

Mistakes were made. By the time evening had descended upon them, Sam was clutching his gut and threatening to throw up every five seconds. They checked into a motel and set up the rooming situation. No one had to share a room; they had money enough for their choices. Some chose to share though. Alex and Claire got a room. Chuck and Paul decided to share. Charlotte went solo, and Dean decided to take care of Sam.

"You're too old for gas station burritos." Dean rested a hand on his back just between his shoulder blades, giving him a little pat of comfort as they went into their room.

"I'm too old for food poisoning. I knew. I should have just stuck with the beef jerky." Sam looked pale and like he might need to get into the room faster. He stopped talking and took three quick strides to the restroom.

Dean could hear the noises of Sam's distress. "You want me to go get you some meds?" he called out past the barely closed door. He waited. Sam was a little busy. He glanced around the room and tossed the bags onto the bed. The room was nice enough, clean at least. It was not modern, but it had a mom and pop charm to it. The wall art was a bunch of Thomas Kinkade mall art. Dean didn't like it, but he had seen much worse. They stayed in a clown themed motel once when they were kids. He cringed. He didn't fear clowns like Sam did, but that place was almost enough to send him there.

Sam finally said, "Yeah, go get me something. Maybe Pepto or something." Sam stopped talking abruptly to continue feeling awful.

"I'll bring back some drinks too. Maybe something with electrolytes in it or something." He thought that he heard Sam grunt some acceptance. He patted his pockets, finding his keys in there, and added the motel keycard to his other pocket. He opened the door to find Alex and Claire on the other side. 'Whoa, not creepy at all."

Alex said, "We figured we'd check up on sad Sam. How's he doin'?"

"Barfing up several meals. How much did you all feed him?" Dean came outside and looked down the row of doors toward the noisy ice machine and the distant office.

"Your brother is a free man. He can make his own choices however bad they might be." Claire followed Dean's gaze to the Impala and asked, "Were you going somewhere?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna go get him some meds and some hydration. Could you maybe stay and keep an eye on him 'til I get back?"

Alex said, "I'll watch him. You go with Dean." Alex nodded over at Claire. "Convince him that we should go out tonight."

"Uh, I'm not seeing that happening. Sam's way too sick for that." Dean glanced back at the door.

"Once he gets some meds in him, he'll just need to sleep. We, my friend, need to stretch our legs and listen to some music." Claire clapped him on the shoulder and walked him to the car with a wave back at Alex.

Dean looked back and said, "We won't be long."

"Don't worry, I'll hold his hair back for him." They both laughed at Alex and got into the Impala.

They took care of the shopping. Luckily there was a pharmacy that was still open in a little strip mall down the street. They passed what appeared to be a very busy bar with a well-lit parking lot. Claire pointed at it. "So this is where Alex and I propose that we go tonight."

"Hmm, well, you two have fun." They were heading back and she had already talked about how it would be fun to get the stiffness out after the long drive.

"Come on Dean. Nothing says good times at the bar like dragging your old man along for the journey."

"I am not an old man."

"You literally just said, like two minutes ago, that you were too old for this."

"We're all too old for this. I mean, honestly, I've been to more bars than I can count. I don't see what I'll get out of this. I'll likely sit, watch you and Alex drink, and then haul your sorry asses back to the motel."

"Then you should go as our sober wing-man. We might need your vigilance." Claire had a look that said, _ha, got you now._

"Fuck, Claire. Now I can't say no." He pulled into the parking lot back at the motel and shut off the engine. "It's close enough for you to walk."

"Yeah, well, we might need someone to watch our backs." She elbowed him, and they got out of the car.

"I pity anyone that tries to take advantage of either you or Alex. That's the short path to painful death." Dean laughed a little but was already secretly convinced that he'd be going with them. "What about Sam though?"

"Well, let's just see how he is."

They got into the room and Sam was laid out face down on the bed. Alex was sitting at this side. She was raking her fingers through his hair and humming a little tune. She stopped as they entered and whispered, "I think he got it all out of his system."

Dean set the bag of meds and drinks down on the nightstand. "He asleep?"

Sam turned his head and looked at him. "No, but I'll take some of those meds and give it a try."

Alex helped him sit up and Dean got out the meds. He twisted off the cap on one of the drinks and passed both to him. Sam gulped it back and set the drink down. He still looked pale. His hair looked a little sweaty. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, Alex said she and Claire are gonna take you out of my hair for a few hours."

"Oh, did she now?" Dean threw a glance at Alex.

Sam said, "Yeah, it's a good plan. Go stretch your legs. I'm fine on my own here."

"I'm not so sure. You might need some more hair holding." Dean smiled at him.

"Shut up. I'm good. I just need to rest." Sam swatted a hand at him. "Go. Maybe take the others with you. I bet they might need a little break too."

Dean looked back at Claire and then at Alex. "Sure Sam." Alex said. "So it's decided. Let's go before anyone changes their mind." She seemed to almost bounce on her toes a little. Claire came over to her side and snaked an arm around her waist. Dean smiled at them, happy to see that some things had improved in recent days.

They left the room with a few last minute reassurances from Sam. He headed down the walkway to the other rooms with Claire and Alex in his wake. He gave Chuck's and Paul's door a quick knock. Chuck answered. Paul was sitting on the bed in the background. "Something wrong, Dean?"

"Nah, the girls just want us all to go stretch our legs a bit at some dive down the street," Dean offered up.

"Hey, it's not a dive. That place looked classy." Claire gave him a little shoulder punch and then leaned back into Alex. She said to Chuck and a little louder so Paul could hear too, "Get your shoes on and come with us. We're gonna go get Charlotte." She started to pull Dean along but he didn't go right away. "What?"

"Maybe you don't need a wing-man."

"Oh, no you don't. Don't you even try to back out now." Claire gave Alex a little push and said, "Go get Charlotte." Alex complied and they continued to stand at Chuck's door while they put on their shoes.

"Paul, you ever go bar hopping?" Chuck asked.

"Can't say I have, but it doesn't sound like we'll be hitting up more than one tonight either." Paul looked up at Dean and Claire as he spoke. It was almost a question.

"Yeah, just one bar, ya party animal, Chuck. Don't go freaking out the preacher." Claire leaned into the doorway and asked, "Were you all just gonna go to bed?"

"Yep, Paul here is old and doesn't know how to party." Chuck laughed.

Dean said, "Sounds like me."

"So you're all young and such now, Chuck?" Claire linked up an arm under his outstretched elbow. Paul followed them and shut the door as they moved out in the direction of Charlotte's room.

Alex and Charlotte met them halfway. "So, we walking there?" Alex asked.

"Might as well. It's just a block away," Claire said. They walked along in comfortable silence.

Dean looked to his side and saw that Paul had moved there. "So, don't let them corrupt you." He tossed a wink into the comment without thinking.

Paul laughed and said, "Pretty sure I don't have to worry about them." He was still smiling as he said it. Dean felt a little warmth fill his face.

"Yeah, well, you're our man of faith, so I think that means you're supposed to be like all pure or something. Not sure we should be taking you to a bar just days before the ritual."

"Uh, pretty sure purity was never a part of the deal. If so you better go find someone else. That ship done sailed ages ago." Paul's words elicited a raised eyebrow from Dean. "What?"

"You're a preacher. I thought there were rules and such."

"You seem like you've seen a lot, Dean, but then you talk, and I'm left thinking that you are the most naive man alive." Dean felt his face scrunch up with Paul's words. Paul laughed at him. "Keep up Dean." Paul nodded ahead to the group that was leaving them behind a little. Paul double timed it to catch up and Dean did the same.

They all got to the bar and Claire and Alex opened the double doors together to usher the group in. This would have been Dean's kinda place not so long ago. He remembered sitting in dark little dives like this back in the day. It was different not having Sam with him but not incredibly so. He had ventured out on his own often enough. There were a few bars that gave him opportunities for companionship that he didn't need his brother knowing anything about. Well, at least that was how he felt back then. Things were different now, and he wasn't exactly interested in any second tier companionship to fill the time.

They found a table at the far end of the building, near the makeshift stage. There was a band performing and a few tables full of college kids. Old timers were at the bar. The place had a wide mix of ages and types. Dean took comfort in the fact that it wasn't a demon bar or a place that would lead to rough altercations. They could have fun here, drink a few beers, listen to some music, and go back to the motel feeling rejuvenated.

"You all know what you want? I'll put in an order at the bar," Dean asked the table. Everyone threw out orders at him and he was confident that he'd be able to retain the orders. He thought for a moment that he'd missed his calling. _Shoulda been a waiter or maybe a barista. Might make more than I do now._

He went off to the bar and Charlotte followed him. He smiled at her and she leaned into his arm with a reciprocal grin. "Figured I'd offer my help or at least company."

"Thanks," he raised his voice over the start of the music behind them. "Hope the band's good."

"They're doing open mic night, so we're likely to get quite the hodge-podge of talent," she said. Dean put in the orders with the overworked bartender and tipped him before he got the drinks going. This got him a smile and he hoped a speedy turnaround on the drinks. Charlotte looked like she was at ease once again, like nothing was bothering her. She smiled at the band playing their hearts out. She looked at Dean and said, "I use to sing a little."

"Me too," Dean joked, adding, "In the shower."

"No, I really use to perform, like on a stage and stuff." Their drinks started showing up. They gathered them up rather awkwardly and took them to the table. Dean sipped at the edge of the ginger ale that he got for himself in an attempt at keeping it from spilling.

As they neared the table he asked, "So, you were a professional singer and got paid for it?"

"A little. It was ages ago."

"I honestly don't know if you just mean it was a long time ago or it was like generations ago. Were you singing with some troubadours or were you an opening act for the Beatles?"

"Wow, Dean, just wow. Those are the two options that you see for me. Out of all the singers in the world, I get paired with random troubadours or the Beatles. You didn't even go with Aretha. Seriously, show me some respect. I'm ancient."

Dean mock bowed to her and said, "So you sang with Aretha then?"

"No, I wish." They sat down at the table and passed the drinks around.

Chuck, clearly not hearing her response, said over the band, "You sang with Aretha?"

She rolled an eyebrow up in passive judgement. "Now look at what you started Dean." Dean laughed at her. "No, Chuck. I've had some singing gigs in the past, a little while back. Did a gig at the CBGB before it shuttered. It was nothing big."

"Shit. No way." Chuck leaned forward a bit resting his chin on his hands. "You gonna take to the stage tonight?"

"I do not think that will be happening. This isn't my kind of crowd." She leaned back and drank down some of her beer.

Claire proposed a toast, lifting her bottle up into the center, "To getting Charlotte drunk enough to sing, and to all of us forgetting our worries for one night." They clinked their drinks together and watched the band. One group after the next got up and took to the instruments that were provided. Some were abysmal. It was like karaoke for those that needed to show their playing talents along with their singing talents. Those that were good, were memorable particularly alongside the very bad ones that managed to think that they belonged on stage.

Chuck left them for a moment and eventually came back. They ordered more drinks and a band performed that promised dancing music for one and all. They did some old stuff from the Righteous Brothers and a few power ballads. Claire made Dean dance with her, which opened the floodgates for Dean's dance card. Charlotte got in second, then Chuck, then Alex, and finally Paul.

"Seriously, I've now danced with everyone," Dean huffed out as the music somehow became slower.

"Yeah, I figured I should get on up here and dance with you so you didn't feel like you were missing out on something."

"Ah, you're a charitable soul, Paul." Dean had his hands on Paul's hips and moved him just slightly to the meandering tempo of the music. Paul's hands were settled on Dean's shoulders, his thumbs brushing back and forth languidly.

"You've thought about some of the possibilities that lie ahead of us." Paul looked up at Dean. He was only a little shorter. His eyes drew Dean in. They were warm and brown and earthy. He smelled of beer and the leather jacket that he had been wearing.

"Obviously. I'm worried. I'm dealing with it though." Dean moved a little closer, their hips bumping a little with the sway of the dance. The dance floor was crowded with couples, some were closer than he was to Paul. They looked, actually, rather chaste by comparison. Dean caught a glimpse of Alex and Claire on the other end of the dance floor. Claire pressed a kiss into Alex's neck and leaned away a moment later to just look at her. Charlotte and Chuck were chatting at the table and drinking their beer.

"You seem like you're a million miles away."

"I suppose I am." He turned his attention back to Paul.

"What if I'm a vessel to someone important? What if I'm a vessel to your angel?" And there was the unspoken issue. The question was one that he had been quietly pushing aside. Cas had taken a vessel before, with consent, and from a man that was in Cas' words, _devout._ Jimmy had been a man of faith. And now, here he was dancing with a man of faith, that might just end up on the Jimmy path.

"I don't know. I can't believe that he's coming back. Also, his former vessel is not gone."

"Yes, but what if he needs to occupy a space and mine is the one for him?"

"What are you asking?"

Paul looked away a moment and then back and said, "Should I say yes to him?"

"I don't think that he'd ask. He only stayed in Jimmy's form at the end because it was an empty vessel. He had feelings about taking over someone's life. He wouldn't want you to give yourself up for this."

"Wouldn't he though? Wouldn't he want just one more chance, even if it was short, to just talk to you?"

"He would, but he wouldn't want you to be in the awkward position of having your body used to accomplish that."

"I would consent, just so you know." Paul looked earnest and the music was nice. The room felt warm and it was almost like they weren't even there with a bunch of bodies pressed all around them. Dean moved his hand up to Paul's face and cupped his cheek, stroking along the angle of his face with his thumb.

"You deserve to be happy too. I wouldn't ask you to consent to that, and neither would Cas." Dean leaned down and kissed him light and chaste on the lips. He moved back a little from him and added, "I appreciate what you're doing, but don't go throwing your life away on a mission that you can't possibly fully comprehend. And certainly don't do it for me."

Paul leaned down and rested his forehead on Dean's chest. "I won't promise you anything, but I'll at least consider what you've said."

* * *

By the end of the night, they had manipulated Charlotte into taking to the stage for two numbers. Chuck had gone off and signed them up for two songs. Since they had a college crowd making up a chunk of the room they picked a song from around ten years prior and figured they'd make it work as an acoustic number. Chuck apparently could play the guitar. They also opted for a folksy piece that Dean remembered from long ago, only back then it was God singing it in his bunker shower. It was different hearing the song coming from Charlotte.

They cheered after the first song. Dean felt like the song had extra meaning. It lingered in his head even after the applause. There had been a line about having wings and flying, which he immediately connected to Cas. Then the chorus of Fare Thee Wells that followed stirred something more. Paul was watching him during the song and at some point reached over under the table to take his hand. Dean let him.

The second song was "Demons" by Imagine Dragons. Dean remembered it as a poppy song from way back when. Charlotte's voice though was like honey, all sweet and sticky with old timey affection. She dragged her notes and dipped into low graveled moments that sent one's skin into pinpricks of interest.

Somehow this song reminded Dean of himself. She had slowed the pacing of the song significantly Her voice rolled slowly through the lines, _Don't get too close. It's dark inside…_ And she was looking at him as she sang. Chuck played through the chords of the song and eventually joined her in the last bit. The end of the song was met with applause and standing ovations. Dean got up and gave them a wolf whistle.

They settled the tab with the bar not long after the song ended, and slowly wended their way back to the motel. Paul had an arm around Chuck, who was "Totally not drunk." He had played and sang like the most sober person in the room, but apparently when it came to walking, he was not too steady. Alex and Claire were happy and committed to a little PDA. Dean had an arm around Charlotte and she leaned into the sideways hug as they walked.

"You sing."

"I do."

"You're good."

"Eh, I'm not half bad." She tipped her head into his arm, and he gave her a squeeze of affection.

"I hope that at the end of all of this, that I won't look back on this moment with regrets."

"You have some regrets?"

"Some. Many." Dean breathed in the night air and took in the sounds of those in his group. Chuck was singing another folk song. He sounded a little giddy. Paul knew the words and joined him. Dean heard Claire mutter an 'I love you' to Alex and he heard Alex say, 'ditto.'

"Don't you go all _Ghost_ on me with that 'ditto,' bullshit. You say I love you too like a civilized lady." Claire's tone was light and touched with the kind of mirth that a couple shots of tequila added in the final hour.

Alex laughed at her and leaned into a whisper in Claire's ear. This seemed to remedy the previous offense with the 'ditto' utterance. Then, as they got to the edge of the parking lot to their motel. Alex threw her arms up and spun around declaring loudly to the sky and the stars and all who were within a five mile radius, "I love you, Claire Novak. I love you so damn much." Claire picked her up and spun her in a hug.

Dean noted the control that she had in the hug and as she lifted her. Claire was not as drunk as she had seemed to be before. They parted ways at their doors. Charlotte kissed Dean's cheek as she said goodnight. Claire and Alex were in their own world with their tossed off, 'nights.' Chuck gave Dean a hug. Dean half-heartedly returned it. Sometimes it was hard separating out Chuck from the God that he had been before. Chuck declared some sort of love for Dean. Told him he was awesome. Dean just chuckled a little uncomfortably and directed him into his room. Paul lingered in the doorway.

"I should have maybe opted for a solo room." He leaned against the door frame and smiled at Dean.

"You and I both. God only knows what Sam has done to that bathroom since I've been gone." Paul moved toward Dean then.

"So, uh, if I kissed you now, would you be okay with it?" Paul seemed to waver a little in front of him.

"I don't know. I'd likely beat myself up for it later. You're attractive and kind. I love Cas. I'd be using you to feel good in a moment. I kinda stopped drowning myself in other people. It didn't feel good after." Dean was shuffling his feet a little and sounded like he was going to keep rattling off lists of reasons to not do this with Paul, when Paul leaned into him and kissed him quiet. His hand carded up into the back of Dean's hair. Dean did not resist, but in his mind, he could just let himself drift. He'd done it a million times before. If he couldn't have what he wanted, he'd just slip into darkness and note only the pleasure that came from the contact taken from whoever was there in the moment. He didn't love them, the many that filled time in his motel beds, or in grungy storerooms in bars. Paul tasted of beer and the salt that lingered on his lips from the bowl of pretzels that he had been picking at earlier.

Dean couldn't distance himself from who he was kissing, couldn't float off into an imagined space where it was all just pleasure and forgetting. He knew Paul a bit, so that changed everything. He had his hands pressed up under Paul's shirt a little. He breathed him in as he pulled back and held onto the breath a moment before either of them could speak. He thought that Paul would try to move in again. He didn't though. Instead he just said, "Goodnight, Dean."

"Goodnight, Paul." Dean went off to his room with Sam. Tomorrow would be different. They'd be arriving. It was a three day drive that they cut down to two. He cast a glance back at Paul who was watching him go. He set the vision of him standing there seemingly without a care in the world into a mental file full of memories of those that he maybe failed a little. He was beginning to think that the collection was becoming as vast as the stars above him.

* * *

Sam was fast asleep and had apparently consumed two of the drinks that Dean had left for him. He looked less pale in the moonlight that fell into the room from the between the curtains hastily pulled together in front of the window. Dean was glad of it. He took off the layers of clothing and crawled under the sheets. He stared up at the ceiling and then over to the window with the curtain drawn. It was not closed well enough to keep out the light of the full moon though. He thought that he might have trouble sleeping. His mind was full of thoughts and the lingering sensations of the kiss received just a few moments ago.

He told himself not to think about it too much. It would just worm its way into his dreams and morph them all into guilty nightmares. He turned from the window and faced the dark of the ceiling instead. Soon he would see Cas again, cold dead Cas. He felt a chill blanket him with the thought. He licked his lips and tasted the salt that lingered there in his kiss stained mouth. He closed his eyes and tried to let the moment be pleasure. He let his hand dip to his hip beneath the blanket. He lingered there, considering a slide to the left. He didn't move though. He just laid there hoping for sleep to overtake him.

When it did, he did not find himself in the throes of romance. Instead, he was on his pier, in the bright light of summer. He was not alone. The girls were swimming, Charlotte was sitting at the end next to Chuck, who was hanging his feet over the edge into the water. Paul was floating on a little blow up raft, and Sam was treading water at his side. Dean raised a hand up to his eyes to shield himself from the sun which was hot on his face.

Paul caught sight of him and rolled off the raft into the water. He swam with quick, wide, strokes to the side of the pier. He pressed his hands to the top and hoisted himself up out of the water. The water trailed down the angles of his cheekbones, his chest and sides. Dean's gaze followed the water and the muscles that lead everything down to the pier. He was wearing black and white swim trunks that hung loosely off of his hips. Dean wondered if gravity just didn't work here, because there was literally no reason for them to be staying put.

Paul's lips curled up into a smile as he noted Dean's gaze. He strolled over to him and said, "You seem happy to see me."

Dean didn't move. Paul set his hands to either side of Dean's hips and pulled him in. He kissed Dean again, but this time, Dean did not close his eyes or kiss him back. He looked past Paul as he kissed him and noted the ways that everything seemed so strange. There was the noise of them frolicing in the water. It sounded of summer and joy. Yet at the same time, the world was silent. No birds called down from their flights, because they weren't soaring through the sky. No wind blew through the trees, so the rustle of leaves did not greet them.

Dean stepped away from Paul and looked back along the pier, toward the land that was behind them. There was a vast empty field and a familiar warehouse. He moved toward it and did not look back. He knew what he'd find if he left the pier, but he did it anyway. His family was behind him now. They were all family now, both by blood and choice. The sounds of them in the water fell into silence, yet he did not turn back to them.

He stepped barefoot from the pier to the sand. The feel of it between his toes was warm until his feet sank in a little to the wet underbelly of it. He moved from it with wide steps. He climbed up the embankment to the high grass that framed the beach. He walked through it toward the warehouse. He spread his arms out at his sides and felt the soft tickle of the grasses brush along the underside of his arms and fingers. He breathed in deeply of the thick summer air, wet with humidity.

There were sigils carved into the occasional rocks that dotted the field. They were there just like they had been before. He had let himself forget these things, or maybe he had been made to forget these things. He walked onward to the large doors of the warehouse. They were a deep, dark wood. Sam had said that he had locked the doors, but Dean knew that the doors would part for him with just a touch.

He pressed his palm to the rough lines of it and pushed. They opened on a creak. He stepped inside and let his eyes adjust to the dark. He turned back a moment and let his eyes fall on the distant pier and the lake. They were all still there, but it was dark now and they were frozen in place, shadows in the night. He knew they were there, but only because he couldn't imagine them leaving. He turned back to the space before him. There was a body in the center of the room, covered in a white sheet.

"Cas," he whispered. He had been dreading this moment. He had craved any distraction from what he would see beneath the sheet. He dreaded going to bed and pulling his own sheet up over his body, thinking about what the next day would bring. His body moved across the space like it was levitating. He did not wish to stop, but it was also too fast. He knew when he got to the body that he would have to see it as it was. He couldn't handle it. His heart was racing. His hands were wet with sweat.

When he was at his side, Dean fell to his knees beside the form. He reached out immediately and pulled back the sheet. Cas' eyes were closed. He was still and beautiful, just as he had been before. Dean reached out and brushed back his hair from his forehead. "I love you," he whispered and leaned in to kiss him on the forehead.

Cas stirred and opened his eyes. "I'm home."

"You are." Dean smiled down at him.

Cas looked off to the doorway and the distant places beyond it. "You can be happy with him. I want that for you."

"I don't want that, and no, I really couldn't. I could pretend, but it would never be enough." Dean looked back out the doorway toward the pier now too. He could see them all frozen there in some sort of pose that seemed like a still life of summer. It was bright again there as if that would tempt him. The color was not real though; it was too vibrant, too punched up in that way that dreams often were. He turned away from it back to Cas and let this dream have him.

Cas sat up and took his hands in his. "The ritual is not for me."

Dean looked at him long and parsed his words, hoping that he had just misunderstood him. "Then why are we doing this?"

Cas smiled in that way that showed that he knew so much more than Dean ever would. He said volumes with that smile. He moved a hand up to Dean's face and gave it a pat of affection and a hint of condescension. "After all this time, surely you must know now that not everything is about us. There are often many more important things to consider."

"Cas, if I'm not getting you back after all of this, then I don't see the point. I know that not everything is about us, but if this is not about you, then who is it about? Who should I be caring about more than you at this point?"

"I assume that you don't hate God enough to wish that his end would remain permanent." Cas let him go and watched him for a response.

"Is that who we're saving?" Dean reached out to him and took his hands in his.

"It's complicated, Dean."

"I need you to come back to me."

"I never left." Cas let go of one hand and pressed it to Dean's chest. "I've always been with you."

"Yeah, and this dream life is real." Dean's tone became suddenly sarcastic. He looked steadily at Cas and saw his face fall a little. The world around them wavered.

"Time is running out. You'll be waking soon. Do the right thing Dean, and have a little faith. If you can't have faith in general, then have faith in me. I'm sure that I've earned that much." Cas leaned in and settled a kiss on the corner of Dean's mouth. Dean dipped his head in a posture that looked a little shy at first.

"I've always had faith in you. It's the rest of the world that seems to get in the way of it." They sat there looking at each other as the walls around them seemed to shake and fade away.

"Just remember, that I'm still with you. I've never left." As Cas leaned in again to repeat the kiss, he faded and disappeared. Dean opened his eyes and was in the motel, staring up at the popcorn ceiling that sparkled a little with what sunlight had managed to snake its way past the curtains. He rubbed the grit of sleep out of his eyes and tried to hold onto the words that Cas had said, but like every good dream, even this one would fade and eventually seem like it held nothing of substance.


	15. Chapter 15

They arrived in the early evening, pulling to a stop at the edge of the field. They shut off the engines of their vehicles and got out to just stare. In the distance they could see the old warehouse, a dot on the horizon. They could have driven closer, but somehow Dean just couldn't. He was the first to stop, and of course, Claire followed him, pulling the truck over next to the Impala.

The last rays of sunlight dripped down on them. They had made good time. Claire slipped her hand into his and leaned her head over to rest it on his arm. "We should go get a motel and rest tonight. We have our work cut out for us tomorrow," she said.

Dean looked down at her and said, "I assumed that we'd have to dive in tonight. I've been dreading it."

There was so much light on her. Dean stared down at her eyes, which were vibrant and so full of life and stories. The things that she had seen. Older eyes had seen less. Her blonde hair was brighter in the last of the sunlight and seemed like late summer wheat that might blow about on a breeze. He brushed a strand back behind her ear and kissed the top of her head.

Sam came over. "So tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Dean said. Sam reached out and took his keys. Dean didn't fight him. He felt tired now, like he could sleep for days. Claire pulled him along with her to the truck. He got in without protest. Alex took Claire's keys and settled into the driver's seat. Once they were settled into the truck and the engine was roaring back to life, Dean pulled Claire into his side, and they closed their eyes together as the vehicles rolled on down the road. They needed each other now to get through what was to come, what they'd see, what they'd feel. The others wouldn't understand in the same way.

They had to drive nearly ten miles from the site to find a motel. It was the same motel that they had stayed in the last time. God could have just zapped away the need for sleep, but no, instead he had plopped them down in a run-down, cheap motel and zapped in some take-out. He had dragged out the time. He didn't want to go. Dean really couldn't blame him. He felt that somehow now he understood quite well what was felt then.

In those days, he had even managed to develop some sympathy for Lucifer too. God didn't make things easy back then. He blew off their complaints and questions. He had a mission all mapped out in his head, and he made sure that everyone played their parts. It was hard to find comfort in the situation. It was even more difficult given the fact that they were bound to lose people that mattered.

Dean thought of who he had left. He thought of Claire held close in the crook of his arm, of Alex at the wheel, staring ahead with steely-eyed resolve, of Sam, driving the Impala, worrying over every little thing. He even considered Chuck and Paul and Charlotte. He couldn't accept the losses that might be in their futures even if they consented to them. He thought that life was supposed to be better after the sacrifices of several years ago. It was for most, but it was not for him or the ones with him now.

He took on their sacrifices as his own. He took on guilt that shouldn't have been his, as if his own guilt wasn't enough already. He was like that though. He was saddened by the thought that they'd do all of this and maybe nothing good would come of it. He was troubled by the idea that none of them really knew who or what they were saving. They were going forth on a feeling. He didn't like the idea of it. He didn't like that everything could be so very bad, and, in the end, what doesn't kill them will consume them in further guilt.

Alex interrupted their quiet contemplations with a question, "How long did it take for you to draw up the sigils the last time?"

Dean opened his eyes and peered over Claire's head to Alex. "What makes you think that we drew sigils?"

"Chuck was saying something about the sigils being the same as the ones used the last time. He had memories of it leftover from when God was riding him around." The Impala turned off the country road that they were on and Alex followed.

"I don't remember that. God must have just snapped them into place." Dean tried to remember the way things went before, the preparations and such, but all of that was buried under everything else. He had been more worried about what God would ask of them. He had already asked for so much. When they arrived at the warehouse, there was nothing left to do but to fight and maybe survive. He closed his eyes again and tried to picture the sigils. There were many, drawn in blood around the property. They glowed out once the battle began with the blue-white light that Dean associated with grace.

The crunch of the tires on gravel startled him a little as they pulled into the parking lot of the motel. Alex hopped out and made her way to the office. Sam joined her at the door. Everyone else just waited in the vehicles. Claire moved a little and took his hand in hers. She threaded their fingers together. "I'm not ready to see him."

His thumb moved slowly back and forth over the side of her hand. "I know. I'm not either." The silence came again. They watched through the dusty glass as Alex and Sam stood at the counter, likely filling out the paperwork that would get them some rooms.

"I'm not going into the warehouse until it becomes absolutely necessary. I might not even go in then. Alex and I talked about it, and she's afraid of what it'll do to me. She wants me to be safe, so I need to respect that."

"I'm afraid my situation is a tad different."

"Is it?"

"It'd be like you deciding not to go in if you found out that Alex was in there."

She hummed a bit of agreement. "I get that. You have a brother though, and he needs you too."

"I'm not going anywhere. I just can't imagine a scenario where I don't go to Cas. I have to do this, no matter what it does to me." Dean looked away from her, away from the vision of his brother in the office, toward the long line of red doors that ran down the motel row, ending in a dusty field.

The silence claimed them again. A little breeze kicked up outside and swirled the dirt into a tiny dust devils that trailed off to the end of the parking lot and away. The night was on them now. The stars were out and since they were far from any city lights, the sky was country huge. Dean looked for Denab past the windshield. He was always looking for that familiar star, and everything that his head tied to that bright spot in the dark.

Sam came out of the office with Alex and waved a hand to signal that they should all get out. They gathered their bags and Sam handed out the keys. They had some unspoken agreement that they'd all end up in the same rooms with the same people as they had been with the night before. They all headed off to their rooms, and Sam said, "We'll all meet up at 7:00 am tomorrow. Sleep well." Dean followed him, and they entered the room silently. Sam tossed his bag onto the bed, and Dean took the other. Dean let his body fall face down on the bed and spread his limbs out like he was a starfish. He could hear Sam moving along the tiny aisle between the beds. "You doing okay?"

Dean turned his head toward the other bed and saw that Sam was sitting there, watching him. "I'm fine." He wanted to sleep. He also didn't want that. The dreams had become something that haunted him even in his waking life. Actually, it was Cas that haunted him. His face with his deep sky blue eyes, his lips eternally chapped, his mess of hair, his words, his dying…

"Claire's taking things kinda hard. I just thought that maybe you'd like to talk a bit."

"She's not gonna go into the warehouse. We talked about that."

Sam just stared at him like he could will him to share more through the power of his glare. "Come on Dean."

Dean sat up. "Look, I am not gonna start pouring my heart out. I'm tired, man. I'm tired." He turned away from him. "I'm not going in tomorrow. At least you won't have to worry for one day."

He felt Sam's hand on his back in the space between his shoulders. He rubbed small circles there. It reminded him of when he was young, of something his mom had done for him when he was sick. "When I use to get sick, you use to make soup. You'd force me to eat it. You'd make me go to bed after, but you always stayed with me even though I knew you had other things you'd rather be doing."

Dean turned his face back to Sam then and said, "I was doing what I wanted. I was right where I wanted to be."

"Yeah, I know. It was a sacrifice though. Much of your childhood was." Sam kept of the motion of his hand and smiled down at Dean. "You use to sing me mom's songs when you thought I was just about asleep."

"Probably gave you nightmares." Dean gave him a half grin with the words.

"No, you gave me comfort. Don't get me wrong. You had a voice that was, well, certainly not classically trained, but it was enough."

Dean closed his eyes and pulled in a breath of sleepy air. "Wish you had heard mom sing. She had a great voice. Wish I could've heard her sing "Hey Jude' just one more time or anything for that matter." He could feel his mind growing heavy with sleep. Sam was here, offering up comfort in a gentle touch. Then his voice joined the moment that was half of a dream already. _Almost like McCartney,_ Dean thought as Sam began singing "Hey Jude" barely above a whisper. His volume increased a little as the moment extended. His mind filled with colors, so much color that nothing else could be distinguished within it. And Sam's voice traveled through it all as he sang out the words of the chorus.

"Then you'll begin to make it better…." Sam's song filled his mind. The words were comfort as he fell deeper into his sleep. Tomorrow would come, and he would get through it. He would work alongside them. He would do what he could. It would not be better for him, but he would get through.

* * *

The process of creating the sigils around the field was much more extensive than he had realized that it could be. He had not considered the materials needed when he had considered the acts of drawing everything. Yes, they had all of what they needed, but short of killing the participants in the ritual, they could not get enough blood all at once. This was going to be a many day affair.

The blood had to come from all three of them, Paul, Chuck, and Charlotte. Dean wondered how God had dealt with this before and whose blood he zapped into the field all those years ago. Sam, for his part, made a special trip back into town to get orange juice and lawn chairs, deciding that they needed to be able to just rest until they had gotten their strength back. Alex, Claire, Sam and Dean could take care of the work just fine on their own.

The hard part for Dean was the looming presence of the warehouse at his back. He could feel it there; although, he tried to keep from looking at it. Cas was in there, and knowing that was like feeling his heartbeat after a hard run. It was entirely felt, and it was entirely his focus even without the looking. Periodically, one of the group would come to him and rest a hand on him, pass him a water or some snacks. He took them wordlessly and ate or drank while he worked. The sooner they finished the better. This was the pattern for days.

On the first day, the sun burned them. On the second day, they dripped with sweat, but the drugstore sunscreen kept the burn from getting worse. By the third day, they were pros. They worked with some efficiency on the quadrants that they had each been assigned. Chuck, Charlotte, and Paul kept things organized on the tablets. They also performed the rituals needed to ready the materials. This didn't require much physical energy, so this was their duty. They were drawing close to the end of the fourth day when Dean decided that he needed to quit early and take a walk.

He tossed his blood soaked paintbrush into the wooden chalice. A little blood splashed back onto his hand. He wiped it off on the dry grass. It was bright against the honey brown blades. He got up and made his way out into the far field. It seemed to go on forever. In his dream he would have been to the lake by now. In reality there wasn't a lake close enough to walk to. So eventually Dean stopped and closed his eyes. He imagined the lake and the dock. He imagined the sky gone dark. He peppered it with stars. He breathed in deeply of the warm country air. The scent of drying grass filled him with comfort.

As he stood there, seeking serenity, he thought of how much was left to do. There wasn't much. Soon it would be over. Soon he'd have to face the consequences, both the consequences of the current situation and the consequences of the past. The stars seemed large in his imagination, a comfort in the moment that was almost becoming overwhelming. He felt the warm sun baking his skin to a deeper golden brown. He felt it as he imagined the cool night. He could almost imagine a breeze and feel it.

A voice drew him from his dream. "Thought you might need this."

Dean opened his eyes to Paul standing at his side with a cold bottle of water. He pressed it to Dean's arm and smiled. Dean took it, twisted off the cap and drank it all down. Paul followed the effort with thinly veiled desire. "Thanks."

"Are we done for the day?"

Dean looked back at the field, the sigils seemed small from so far away. "Nah, I should actually try to do a couple more. They take forever. They have more small details than we usually have to deal with."

"Guess someone out there didn't want to make this simple."

"With good reason, I guess." Dean sighed and ran a hand back up into his hair. It was a little sweaty.

"Are you going to venture into the warehouse soon?" The question shook Dean a little. He turned from the vision of the field and the sigils back toward where his imaginary lake would be. There was no chance of looking at the warehouse if he faced this direction.

"I'm gonna avoid that for as long as possible."

Paul let the words settle and then he said, "We talked a bit while we were researching in your house. Sam talked about Cas. Later Charlotte talked about how you and Claire shared a story about Cas. Sam cleaned out the lie and now we understand better. I've understood in feelings for awhile. He's constantly in your thoughts."

"He is." It was all Dean could manage.

Paul's hand rested on his arm. "You don't have to do this. You can walk away from this."

"You mean the ritual or the seeing of my dead friend."

"Both maybe." He paused and seemed to think a bit before continuing. "I think that you were meant to bring us all together. It was like we were or are bonded to you. Now that we are here though, you shouldn't have to go through this. You've done this before. God wouldn't expect you to do this all again. And Cas, if he loved you, which I think is the case given the stories, he wouldn't want you to do this either."

"That's where I think you're wrong. I think that he does want me to do this. I've been encouraged by him every night in my dreams. He wants me to do this, not for him, not for us, but he wants this done none the less."

Paul shot down another tangent, "What if we just left?"

"Huh?"

"I mean it. What if we just left, said to Hell with it all?"

"You really think they'd go along with that?"

"No, but I might if you wanted. I think we're doing the right thing here, but if you say the word, I'll hop into that car of yours and ride off into the sunset at your side. Nothing has to be set in stone. If you want to change the story we're living, change it." He ran his hand up Dean's arm a little and turned him so that they faced one another. "I'm not him, but I could be enough."

"It'd be easy with you Paul."

"It would."

"But it's not what I'm meant for. I went into something once when I was feeling lost. She was wonderful, everything I thought that I needed. In the end, she wasn't enough, and being with me lead to so much pain for her, her kid, and even me. I'm done doing that to people. I'm not what you need."

"Yet if he were here…"

"I'd forget everything I just said and make it work. I'd say to Hell with the consequences. I'd ride off into the night with him. No questions."

"Because he's it."

"Yes, because he's it, and he always will be. With some people, you throw away the rulebook, say to Hell with the consequences. When you find someone like Cas, someone that has been to literal Hell and back for you, you hang on. You hang on even when it seems like there ain't nothing left to be hanging on to."

"Is that what you've been doing, Dean, because it seemed more like you were a defeated man, a guy that had nothing to hang onto." Paul released him and looked steadily at him through sad eyes.

"I put on a good show." Dean's lips curled up into a wry little grin. "I have no reason to believe that I'll ever get him back. He's well and truly gone, and he has been for years. Doesn't matter though. He told me recently that he has never left me, and you know what, I believe him. I may never be in the same room with him again. I may never get the apple pie life with him, but he has never left me."

"I don't understand."

"There's no explaining it. Nothing I say will make sense. I just feel him. He's with me and he always will be. I've recently decided that I can just hold onto that, and that will be enough." Dean's voice wavered a bit.

"I hope you're right, Dean. I hope you're right." Paul reached out to Dean then and hugged him. Dean stiffened up at first, then he hugged him back.

"As long as I have this much, I'll be fine." He let him go and Paul stepped back. "Thanks for listening." Paul smiled and Dean saw sadness in it. It was a familiar look. He thought that he'd recognized something in Paul that wasn't there before, or maybe it was, but he was too busy to really see it. And with that moment of recognition, he felt that he finally understood a little better what was going on.


	16. Chapter 16

He had tried to dive back into work, but Dean couldn't focus. He found himself stealing glances at Paul who seemed content to just work meticulously on his one little sigil. Dean wondered how much Paul had heard crashing around in his head. _After all, dude's a mind reader._ In the midst of one of his glances, he let his eyes linger on the warehouse. The sunlight made the whole place gleam too brightly at hot, high noon, but now that it was approaching evening it was just bright, and Dean was too sweaty to keep plugging away. He got up and roamed over to Sam.

"Sam." He was leaned over a large rock, painting the last lines of a sigil there.

"Yeah." Sam shielded his eyes as he looked up at Dean.

"Walk with me." Dean moved a little to block the sun as Sam was looking up at him.

"Sure." He set the brush back into the chalice of blood and got up. "Something wrong?"

"I don't know, but we should talk." Dean motioned off toward the far field.

Sam stood next to him. "We could call it a day, head back to the motel."

Dean directed him with a hand to his lower back, and they walked. "Had a conversation with Paul."

"Saw that. Is that what this feelings talk is gonna be about?"

"Yeah, and not what you're thinking." Dean cast a glance back at the others. Paul was painting a sigil, and Chuck and Charlotte were talking. Alex and Claire were working opposite ends of the field. They'd all be done soon. Dean moved his gaze up to the warehouse and felt the pull that looking at it always supplied.

"You okay?" Sam gave his arm a squeeze.

Dean shook his head and turned back to him. "Yeah, yeah." They walked onward. Dean looked back again and the others were small now in their wake. "Have you ever questioned who we were helping in all of this?"

"I did. Is that what this is about?" You still worried about that?" They stopped walking and just stood in the high grass that was waving about around them.

"Paul's face changed while we were talking. I think being here, making the sigils, preparing, is drawing out what lies beneath the surface of him, and maybe it's happening to Chuck and Charlotte too."

"What do you mean?"

"He said we could ride off into the sunset together. He was giving me an out, because he knew how much all of this was messing with my head."

"Did you consider it?"

"Leaving?" Sam nodded at Dean's question. "I'm always considering leaving, but I won't. The people I care about are here. I need to make sure that they're still here when all is said and done. Also, not the point."

"So what is the point?"

Dean looked back at them again and then at Sam. "I think that Paul is carrying Amara."

Sam seemed to sputter a bit and asked, "Why?"

"He looked at me, and he just kinda changed. It was like when Charlotte wasn't Charlotte. It was subtle, but it was there. I saw Amara." Now Sam was looking off toward the others, a thinly veiled look of worry on his face.

"You said that in the end God didn't really want to kill her."

"I did, but he and Cas went into the fray, so to speak. What if she has figured out how to come back?"

"I feel like it's not her, but I don't know."

"What do you mean by the whole, _I feel like it's not her_ bit?" Dean's tone was a little surly. He got it from years of hearing it from Bobby and then years of feeling like he was becoming Bobby, a loner with a grumpy desire to help.

"Paul just seems too, I don't know, timid to be some all powerful being. He can't be Amara."

"Well, we know that Charlotte is carrying around Billie. She certainly doesn't seem like an all powerful being. Stands to reason that the human part of them, when in the driver's seat is what we're seeing. Paul is carrying around Amara. Which makes me wonder if Chuck is just doing the obvious thing and carrying around God?"

Sam shuffled about a little and kept looking off toward the rest of the group that seemed to be finishing up and putting everything away. "I don't get why though. I mean seven years ago, we came here to lock away the darkness. Seven years ago, God told us that the only way to do this was by using their collective energy and tying it all to Cas. This was a death sentence for all of them. It was like having your grace burned out in an instant. That was how he put it."

"Yeah, but you're forgetting something."

"What?" Sam focused on him again.

"We never talked about that day. It's weird. I mean, arguably this was one of the most important days in either of our lives, and you and I have never spoken of it in any great detail. We just seem to focus on me falling apart afterwards." Dean ran a hand up through his hair which was a little sweaty. "We also never talked about Lucifer either. When he was expelled from Cas, we barely questioned what happened to him. He was just gone, and we went on with the ritual. You and I were frozen, unable to do or say much. Cas and Chuck joined Billie to face Amara. They were far off, and I couldn't hear them over the storm."

"What does rehashing this change? This is not the same thing we're doing here now." Sam seemed uncomfortable.

"I didn't pay attention to you. I should have. I'm sorry Sam." Dean was really looking at him now. "Maybe then I would've seen it all when it happened."

"What are you talking about?" Sam's appearance seemed to shake a little. His lips were a tight line of irritation.

"You said yes." Dean's words were barely above a whisper. He didn't even want to believe it. Sam had been just as devoted, just as much Sam as he had always been. He was good. He was kind. He was always pouring himself fully into one nobel task or another. So Dean expected an argument or an outright denial. He'd accept them if they happened. He didn't want to believe what seemed all too real to him now. He wasn't even sure why he had suddenly thought it, but there was something now in the way that Sam looked. It was not unlike when Paul changed or when Charlotte changed. The slight wavering happened, and Dean just knew.

"I did." Sam's reply was equally quiet. "Chuck said that we needed him and that he was burning out Cas' body. I didn't say yes right away. I needed to think about it, but then, when Amara attacked us, I had to do something. She was going to destroy him, and Chuck was down for the count. I said yes, and he buried himself in me. He's there, but he's quiet. He has not taken control, not even once. Oddly enough, he seems content to just watch me live for the both of us." Sam breathed in a deep lungful of air and added, "I had to do it to save the world, but I was already going to do it to save Cas."

Dean's brows pulled together as he leveled a glare at him. "And yet again you've kept a giant ass secret. I've got nothing to say to you right now, Sam or Satan, or whoever the hell you are. No wonder you're all for this." He waved his hand back at the field behind him and all that they were doing. "So much for this whole concept of Lucifer and God buring out to save the world. Looks to me like he just got the grand prize, your vessel."

"I'm Sam, just Sam, your brother. You've never spoken with him in here. Plus I don't even have all of him in here, just most of him. He got fragmented in the attack. He's not as all powerful as he once was." Sam smoothed his hands down his sides to wipe away the sweat. "Dean, I promise you. I'm me. Have I ever seemed like anything but me?"

Dean couldn't speak anymore. He stalked off back to the others and passed right by them. He could hear Sam yelling for him to stop as he grabbed his bag and got into his car. Claire was at the passenger door before he could pull away from them all. She yanked the door open and got in. Alex was standing off in the field. "Where're you going?"

Dean rolled down the window. Sam was stopped in the center of the field with the others. Dean yelled over to them, "Alex, get in the car. Leave the truck keys with one of them." He couldn't even say _with Sam._ Alex turned to Sam and handed him the keys.

Sam was striding over with Alex at his side. "Come on Dean. Let's talk about this."

"Stop right there. I don't have anything to say to you. Alex get in the car." Alex picked up the pace and got into the back seat. Sam was frozen in place just staring at them like he could will them to stay with the intensity of his glare. Dean whipped the car out of the space that he was parked in with a spray of gravel in his wake as he barreled down the road and away from them all.

* * *

"Dean!" Claire finally raised her voice. They'd been driving for over an hour, straight away from the site. Dean had been silent even when they prodded at him about what had happened.

Dean slammed the brakes and jerked the car to the shoulder. "Just don't tell me that you have some fucking supernatural being riding shotgun with you. Just don't tell me that right now. I won't be able to handle it." He was shaking and his head was pressed against the steering wheel.

Claire's hand was on his back now, and she was rubbing at the tension in his muscles there. "What happened, Dean? Just tell us."

"Sam said yes to Lucifer. He's been carrying Lucifer around for nearly seven years. Every confession, every time I fell apart, every sad sack thing I've said to him over the years has been said to _him._ " Dean couldn't look up, couldn't deal.

Alex said, "But nothing about him seemed even remotely off. Does Lucifer usually seem like Sam?"

He lifted his head and looked at her. "I didn't even know he had taken over Cas when he did that. He's quite capable of putting on a show when he wants something."

Alex tipped her head to the side and seemed to contemplate the situation. The sky was rosy with the diminishing sunlight. It gave them all a magical glow. Claire said, "Dean, there has to be more to it. Sam wouldn't have just handed over the reins. Tell us the rest."

Dean sucked in a breath and said, "He said that Lucifer has not been in the driver's seat. He said that he's just tucked away in there and lets Sam run the show. Doesn't make sense though. Why would he be content to just chill in the back seat for several years?"

"So it's Sam that we've all been talking to?" Alex said.

He whipped his head around, and said rather roughly, "Have you not heard a goddamn word I've said?"

Claire's hand was on him, and she seemed to loom over him in an instant. "Simmer down. Alex and I both heard you, and questioning your story is the only way we get to the dealing with it all part. So I'll kindly ask you to not go yelling at my fiance."

Dean took all of that in and came back to the last sentence. "Uh, when did that happen?"

"After the bar. Apologize. You were rude." Claire nodded at him as she said it.

Dean turned to Alex and said, "Sorry. Uh, and congratulations."

"I got me a badass, huh?" Alex winked and then gave Dean's shoulder a slug. "No big, by the way."

"I get to give you away." It was almost a question.

"Ain't nobody giving me away. I'm my own person." She leaned across the seat though and kissed Dean's cheek. "But you can walk me down the aisle and stand off to the side looking pretty with Jody."

"Jody already knows?" Dean looked back and forth between Alex and Claire.

"Well, yeah, she's walking Alex," Claire laughed.

Alex interjected a serious tone again, "So we need to wrap up this business without dying and such so I can marry this one." She made the hitchhiker thumb at Claire and added, "So what do we do about all of this weirdness with Lucifer?"

"It's more than that. Apparently, Paul is hauling around Amara."

"Holy shit, Dean. Haven't you two been like all kissy-face and stuff?" Claire said.

"Huh?"

Alex said, "Claire and I saw you back at the hotel after our bar night."

"Yeah, that happened." Dean huffed out a frustrated breath and redirected them to the problem of Amara. "Paul might not even know really what he's got hanging out inside of him. He might not understand what she is, what she does. Although, I'm not so sure that she was interested in the utter destruction of the world. In the end I thought that she was trying to understand the world, humanity. But Chuck took her out. They couldn't have survived that. She couldn't have survived what he was going to do to her."

"What was he going to do." Claire pulled her leg up onto the seat and Dean glared at it a little since her shoe was brushing the upper edge of the seat and they weren't exactly clean. She lowered her foot back to the floor.

"He said that he'd have to tie her to him, using energy that he was gonna draw from Lucifer and Billie."

"But Lucifer was gone. Or so you thought." Alex leaned over the middle of the seat a bit more.

"Yeah, well clearly I was a little mislead about that. Chuck said that Billie was holding his energy or something like that. I took it as gospel. I'm guessing now, that he was using my brother as a conduit for the energy and that it failed a little. I don't really know. Regardless, he said that he needed Lucifer and Billie to bind Amara to him."

"And Cas?"

"No, Cas was the tether that would hold them all together. Think of it like a sack." Dean saw that they both seemed to find the start of his analogy lacking. "Hear me out. It's how Chuck explained it. He said, the combined energy of Lucifer, Billie and himself would be like a sack that would secure Amara, keeping her from hurting anyone. They were like a cage. And Cas he was like the tie that kept the sack closed. In some ways he is like the Mark of Cain, except he didn't get to walk the earth and become a psycho killer. So there's that."

"But if Cas is that, then he can't be dead right?" Claire reached out to him and really looked at him.

"But he is dead. I held him. I know."

"No, you held his body, the same body that is laid out in that goddamn warehouse. He's not decomposing. He's not breathing or moving or bleeding. But he's an angel. When did he ever really need to do those things anyway?" Claire looked back at Alex and then let out a little whoop of noise that sounded something like joy. "Goddamn it Dean, don't you get it? He's not fucking dead. He's not fucking dead!"

"But…" Dean started and then seemed to freak out a little.

"Get the damn car on the road, you idiot," Alex said.

Dean complied. He whipped the car off the shoulder and onto the road. They were racing back now, away from the setting sun and home to Cas and the others. His heart was pounding hard in his chest. Claire quickly slapped her hands on the dashboard in a happy drumming motion, smiling away like all their problems just got solved, despite the fact that they hadn't. Dean said, "He told me he was always right there. He kept telling me he never left. Goddamn it all." Dean thought, _with any luck, I'll shave off some time, be back before full dark._ He sent out a prayer that he hoped Cas could hear. He thought of all the prayers he had sent out before. _I'm coming, Cas. I'm coming to get you._


	17. Chapter 17

By some miracle, when they returned to the site, none of the others had left. Sam, Chuck, and Charlotte were seated in the back of the truck, talking. Dean seemed to slide into the spot beside the truck, shut off the engine, and launched from the car all in one swift motion. Alex and Claire were out only an instant later. Dean spared one moment to just look at Sam, who looked no different from the Sam he wanted him to be. His face didn't waver, but he looked sad, like he had maybe cried recently.

He turned his attention back to the warehouse, that seemed like it was a mirage or part of a dream, distant from them. The land was aglow under the twilight sky just dotted with stars and a nearly full moon. Dean started toward the building, and with each step he felt himself moving faster until he was running. He could hear the others in his wake. He heard Sam shout after him, "Dean! Dean! What's happening?" Then he heard them running behind him as he got to the door. Claire was at his side.

It was strange. He had been in a hurry to get back, but now with just the door between them, he froze. His palms rested flat against the door and he knew that if he just gave it a little push, that it would open. Claire whispered, "We can do this, Dean."

He looked at her and saw the others standing back a little. The world became quiet like he had suddenly been tossed into the empty. There was the roar of blood in his ears, and though Claire was saying something, he didn't hear her for a moment. He turned his attention back to the door and closed his eyes, willing his heartbeat back down to a level that was reasonable. He opened his eyes again and focused on the door. He pushed. It opened easily. It was late, and the light inside the warehouse was almost nonexistent. He could see something on the floor just ahead of him. It had to be Cas. The light of the July moon managed to cast some illumination into the room through the high windows of the building. Dean stepped forward, the scruffing of his shoes on the pavement echoing in the vast space.

One step. Claire matched it. Two steps. He could hear the sound of his breathing, jagged and shaking. Three steps. He imagined what he'd see beneath the blanket. Cas' face would be quiet and so peaceful. _He's not dead._ Four steps. He was more than halfway to him. Five steps. Claire's hand was on his arm, holding on as they drew closer. Six steps. He sucked in a breath. Seven steps. He fell to his knees and let his hands fall onto the sheet that separated him from the ocular proof that Cas was here, had always been here, would always be here.

He couldn't remove the sheet. Claire held his arm and waited at his side. He could hear her breathing too. Then another hand was on him. He looked to his left and saw that Sam was looking down at him past eyes that were pools of emotion. Sam gave his shoulder a squeeze. Dean gave him a small nod. He looked back down at Cas and pulled back the sheet.

He looked no different. His eyes were closed, and his hair was a wild mess like it sometime was before. He could have been sleeping. Dean hesitated, then moved his hands to Cas' face. His fingers slipped back to the underside of his head and cradled him a moment. "Cas." He breathed out the name and leaned in close. He whispered, "Open your eyes. Come back if you're gone. I need you to be here." His thumb raked an arc over Cas' cheek. He lifted Cas a little and said a bit louder than before, "Come on buddy. You said you were always here. I get it now. Talk to me." But Cas didn't move or wake up or anything.

Chuck rounded to the other side of Cas and came down onto his haunches to look them both over. "That's not how it works. I'm sorry."

Dean's head jerked up, and he noted the way that Chuck looked at him, like he was holding back hundreds of years of sorrows. "Then how does it work?" He was quiet. He still held Cas' head in his hands and waited. His breathing had not calmed much in the moments that had passed.

"We need to do the ritual."

"And then he'll come back?" Dean started to set Cas' head back down.

"The ritual is not for him." Chuck's words were barely above a whisper, and Dean heard them as an eerie echo of what Cas had said to him in his dreams.

Dean's fingers were still curled around the back of Cas' head. He gently slipped them away and got up. He looked down at Cas then at Chuck who now stood too. "Sorry you think that Chuck, or God, or whoever the hell you are, but if I'm involved, it'll damn well be about him." He nodded down to Cas and added, "It's all always been about him for me, and it always will be. So don't tell me this bullshit about the ritual not being for him. I don't give a fuck." Dean's body was still as he spoke, but his eyes glared across the space over Cas as he spoke. "It can be for you. It can be for Amara. It can be for fucking Lucifer riding shotgun in my brother. And like I said before, if it isn't for Cas, if he doesn't get some relief from this damn Sleeping Beauty routine then I'm out. That's how many fucks I give for your little ritual, and that's how this situation will play out." He paused for a breath and finished with, "Your move."

Chuck raised an eyebrow in consideration and said, "You've made assumptions that are inaccurate."

"Then clarify." Dean felt like he just didn't have the energy for this.

"You think that I'm God, and Sam here is Lucifer." He pointed over at Paul and then Charlotte saying, "and what? They are Amara and Death."

"And you're gonna try to tell me that they aren't?"

"Not quite." Chuck came around to Dean's side and reached out to him. He set a hand on Dean's arm. Dean let him. "It's far more complicated. It is why our human sides have been in charge. Well, it's a little different for Charlotte, but for Paul, your brother, and I well, let's just say that we are the same."

Sam spoke up then. "What are you saying, Chuck?"

"Surely you know. Surely he's let you know that much," Chuck said.

Dean looked from Sam to Chuck. He saw that Sam looked confused. "I don't know what you're talking about," Sam said.

Chuck moved to him and set a hand on Sam's head. "Oh, I see." He moved to Charlotte next and touched her head. "Oh, you never made it clear how much you held. Seems strange that you would have taken on more than your fair share when a more accommodating vessel was offered up."

She laughed a little and said in a voice that was not unlike Billie's, "We were told to protect the Winchesters. That was the deal he made. Seemed like giving wonderboy there _his fair share_ was a tad foolish. He shouldn't have been given anything. Didn't you ever wonder why he never mentioned any of this while we were researching."

"Thought he was trying not to step outta character. Thought he was keeping it in check for Dean. Also, not letting him take what he should that really wasn't your call." Chuck looked back at Sam and asked, "Has he been okay in there?"

"He's quiet. I mean, he never says anything. Most days I don't even think about him." Sam cast a glance at Dean and then back at Chuck.

"Well, this changes things a little. Come here, Sam." Sam did as he was told and moved toward Chuck.

"What's going on?" Dean asked.

Chuck placed his hands on Sam and, reaching up to his head, pulled him down a little. Sam rested his forehead against Chuck's. They glowed a little as light seemed to come from nowhere to surround them. "Does it feel different now?" Chuck asked.

"Yes, I feel them." Sam steps back and smiles.

Dean steps closer. "What the hell is going on?"

"You've assumed, Dean, that we were each carrying just one of the essences in our vessels when in fact we were carrying all of them."

"I don't understand." Dean was starting to think this was his mantra. The things he wouldn't understand at this point might be legion.

"That's only because he asked us to make you forget. Your brother said yes to Lucifer, and got a bit of a bonus in the deal, just like the rest of us. He was supposed to have the larger portion of Lucifer, and a smaller portion of the others. A bit of Amara should be in there, and a bit of God. Cas thought that you'd struggle if you kept this memory. He thought that you'd push Sam away or spend your lifetime trying to expel Lucifer from him. He didn't want you to suffer, and you were rather depressed when the ritual occurred even with his intervention. I'm not certain that your lack of memory has helped. It was part of the deal that we made with him though. I'm sure that Castiel would have changed his mind had he seen what you've been these past seven years. Not knowing has made things difficult."

"Maybe you should give me back the memories that you've taken." Dean's voice was low and gravely. He stared hard at Chuck and waited. Chuck approached him and settled a hand on his head.

"This may sting a bit. I'm not God after all." He smiled at Dean and just as suddenly, Dean felt the electric shock of energy coursing through him. His eyes squeezed shut. He thought his eyes might burst from his head. Then a vision came to him. He could see the motel room from seven years ago. Cas was sitting on the bed across the room. Chuck was eating from multiple to go cartons. Billie scooped up a mound of guacamole on a chip and ate it. Sam was stretched out on the bed like he might sleep if he could.

Dean was pacing in the room. "I don't get it Sam. Of all the stupid things you could have done. You said YES! Damn it all. We just got him out of Cas." Dean's arms were waving at his sides in the motel room as he spoke. Sam's arm came up over his face, like he was going to block it all out.

Chuck waved a fork and said, "Look, Dean, it's the only way. Think of it like a bag. We put Amara in and seal her away with us. Your brother's sacrifice here is temporary. I've got enough strength in me to carry Lucifer out. Plus, we're all going to be one giant being at the end of it all." He pauses then and waves the fork at Billie and Cas, then continues, "And just like that, mankind is safely not in her proximity and everyone wins."

"How do you do this though without hurting the vessels. I mean, Cas isn't back to his full strength after hauling around Lucifer." Dean looked over to Cas and added, "No offence buddy."

"Cas knows what he's volunteering for." Chuck's voice dropped. He sounded like he was hoping to go unnoticed.

"What?" Dean looked back and forth between Cas and Chuck. "Why do I get the feeling that you aren't telling me something?"

Cas got up then and walked over to Dean. "I think that maybe we should talk." His hand found Dean's elbow, and he directed him toward the door. Chuck nodded and they walked out into the night.

"What's going on, Cas?" Dean asked as Cas moved ahead of him, touching the doors lightly as he went. When he got to the end of the row, he rested his hand solidly on the door to the last room and seemed to listen. He closed his eyes a moment, and the door popped open. He looked to Dean and motioned him through.

Once Dean was inside, Cas pushed the door closed behind him. They did not turn on the lights. The world outside held some light from the moon and the parking lot lights. Cas moved closer to Dean. "I can be of use, Dean. I didn't want you to be upset, but this is my choice."

Cas moved to the bed and sat on the edge of it. Dean hadn't moved yet, but he was staring at him in the dark room. Dean asked, "What choice did you make, Cas?"

Cas looked away at the headboard of the bed and said, "My grace will bind them. I'll be the one to keep them locked away, together."

Dean came over to the bed across from him and sat down. The chasm between them seemed vast, yet it was just a few feet. "Yeah, I get that. Your grace is gonna be used to hold them all together. You'll be human. You'll come home with Sam and I."

"I let you believe that." He looked back at Dean then. "I let you believe that I could lose my grace and be human. I didn't clarify when you seemed so content with the situation. I didn't question why it was okay to you, having a broken angel taking up residence in the bunker."

Dean let out a little snort of a laugh. He didn't find the situation funny in the slightest. He merely couldn't understand how Cas could be so incredibly wrong. "You wouldn't be broken, Cas. You'd be human."

"No, losing my grace wouldn't make me human. I'd be a burden, useless." Cas looked away again.

Dean reached across to him and settled a hand on Cas' knee. "You've never been useless, not to me, not to Sam. You're family, Cas."

"I'd never assume that you would view me as such, but I know what I contribute. I can do good here. I will do good."

"Cas." Dean's voice dropped to something softer, lower. "You always do good. You always have the best interests of the world or me or Sam right at the forefront. I'm not sure what you're planning, but know that I won't see you as anything like a burden when all of this is done. You'll come home with me. I'll teach you to like food. We'll get wasted drunk, and you can tell me about the stars. I'll get you clothes and set you up with one of the rooms in the bunker. It'll be your home, unless that's not what you want. In which case, just say the word." Dean seemed like he was going to go on painting the picture of their future in the bunker, but Cas held up a hand, silencing him.

"That would be a lovely life. I would be happy to have that." He looked suddenly quite sad. "I'll always be with you." He reached out then and settled a hand on Dean's chest.

"Yeah, that's kinda the point. You afraid you might get tired of me or something?"

Cas let out a small laugh and said, "That couldn't happen."

"Then you're upset about not having your grace then? Is that what has you looking miserable?"

"No." Cas looked away again and dropped his hand from Dean's chest. Dean had not noticed how long it had been there until it was gone. "I'll miss the casualness of our relationship. I'll miss the little moments like this where you can just reach out and set your hand on me." Cas looked down at Dean's hand that was still on him. Dean gave him a slight squeeze.

"That doesn't have to change, Cas."

"It will though."

Dean moved to the other bed and sat right up next to Cas. "Why would it change?" Dean brought his hand around to Cas' back and leaned in close as if to prove some sort of a point. "Chuck said that he could save the vessels, that you'd all be okay."

"No, that's not what he said. He'll save Sam, but that is all he'll be capable of saving. Even that is going to be tough for him. That's the deal I made with him though. I knew that without him you'd be lost. The rest of us will be done, but Sam will be saved. Our essence will be pulled from us and my grace will bind it all together."

"Then this is not an acceptable plan. We need to go back to the drawing board then." Dean's voice was higher than normal. He squeezed Cas' arm as if to emphasize his point.

"It is the only way. I've made my peace with it."

Dean got up then and waved his arms around a little in frustration. "Then what happens to you once your grace is used? Where do you go? Purgatory?" Dean stopped moving and came down to a squat in front of Cas. He put both hands on his legs and said, "I'll go there. I'll bring you back."

"I won't be in Purgatory."

"What is…" Dean looked equal parts frustrated and sad. "What's going to happen to you?"

Cas got up, forcing Dean to get back up too. He put his hands solidly on Dean's upper arms. "I'll be of use. Then I'll close my eyes on this world, and that will be it."

"No, Cas. Then you'll come home with me." He didn't know when he stopped saying things like us when referring to Cas coming home. He didn't mean to discount Sam. It just wasn't about Sam.

"No, Dean." His thumbs moved subtly back and forth in an effort at comfort. "I'm needed more here. If they aren't bound together, safely away from mankind, then all is lost. She's not ready to see yet what she's doing to the world. When God tried this before with Lucifer, he made a mistake. He held Amara with one that did not love humanity. That sentiment reinforced her already negative view on humans and creation. In choosing me for this task, God has chosen to tie her to one that knows what it is to love humanity absolutely. I'll carry that into this, and she will be bound to that love and to all that makes up this world, God, and Death and the heavens and hell represented in the form of Lucifer. It is what will heal her and the world that she is so intent on destroying."

"It doesn't have to be you though. Others love humanity. Others can do this." He was coming undone.

Cas moved his hands up to Dean's face and held him there with a look that said more than just his words. "No, Dean. The other angels do not love humanity as I do. I…" He leaned in closer to Dean and said. "I love humanity more than any angel ever loved anything. I love humanity's devotion, and flaws. I love the kindness that extends to so many and how humanity makes me feel like I matter beyond a war or a cause. I'm in love with humanity, Dean Winchester, and that makes me the only one that can do this."

And Dean admitted something in that rare moment of quiet that he might not have admitted before. "I won't survive this without you, Cas."

"You will. You'll have Sam, and he will save you from the worst of this." Cas sighs. "It brings me some joy to know that you will be okay. That I can do this and…"

"I won't be okay." Dean decided then to take a different path, fearful that Cas wasn't going to change course. "If you do this, then it destroys the vessels. If you care about humanity so much then why not try to save the vessels? It will kill Chuck, the real Chuck, not God. It'll kill Billie, not that I care much for her, but hell, her vessel didn't sign up for this. And what about Jimmy. He gave you this body, and even though he's gone, this is a gift not to be tossed away lightly."

Cas seems to think about this for a moment. "There is no other way to seal Amara away. She will destroy far more if she is allowed to go on. This is a small sacrifice." But Cas fell silent then and seemed to concentrate on the idea. "I'll do what I can to make this easier for you."

Dean felt the weight of the moment fall heavily on his shoulders. "There is no way that this can be made easier. I caused this, Cas. I caused all of this and you're paying the price."

They are a breath away from each other. Cas moves a little and the rustle of his coat is the only sound in the room beyond Dean's ragged breathing. Cas' eyes glow a little with grace as he leans into Dean. He kisses him lightly on the lips. Dean doesn't move. It is their first kiss, and Dean is quite still through all of it. Dean feels the warm thread of grace tickle past his lips to his tongue and to the deeper parts of him. Cas parts from him and says, "I'll carry you with me. All that you are, all that you've been, all that you mean to me, Dean Winchester. I'll carry you here." He leaned away a bit more and moved his fist to his chest. He touched Dean's chest too. "I'm with you." And he stepped away and moved to the door. Dean stayed where he was. He was stunned, and also he was just thinking about what had just happened. He could still feel Cas. He turned at the sound of the door opening and followed Cas out, like he wasn't really there anymore, like he was in a fog of sleep. He floated along behind him and to the far fields where the ritual would occur.

* * *

"What the hell good was that set of memories?" Dean lashed out as Chuck's hand dropped away from him.

"Cas changed the plan after he talked with you. He made you forget the talk. He took away some of your fears and you just complied. In a way, he gave you some hope. He gave you some sort of a dream of what you wanted. He kissed you and left a bit of himself entwined with your soul. So, although you were lost and hurting, you still had this lingering hope under it all. It is what kept you from giving up absolutely."

"So when he said he'd be here." Dean raised a hand to his chest. "He meant he left some grace in me?"

"Yes."

"And he changed the plan how?"

"He wouldn't let us proceed if the vessels were harmed. I hardly saw the point at the time, but now," Chuck ran a hand up though his hair, "Now as a vessel I can say that I'm glad he did."

"So are you God or Chuck?"

"I'm Chuck. He let's me play with his power a bit. It's been fun."

Paul stepped up then, "The mind reading is from him mostly."

Chuck added, "And the rest is a mix of the others."

Dean looked to Paul and asked, "So you knew what you were this whole time?"

"No, that was unclear until Chuck touched me while you were gone, and everything flooded back. I knew that something was different. I did not remember what had happened. I know now."

"Why didn't you know?"

Chuck answered for him. "Charlotte and I are old souls. We've had a long time to process our existence. Our connections to the supernatural also predate our deals with the higher powers that exist within us. Charlotte had a deal that was going to come due. The Hell Hounds were literally going to claim her just before Billie got involved. I had made my own connections of a questionable nature."

"Really? What'd you do?" Dean asked.

"I slept with an angel. There were consequences." Chuck looked away for a moment.

"Uh, consequences?" Dean asked.

"It wasn't the sex that was the problem, and so not important right now." Chuck looked at each of them, sighed and continued. "Paul is not an old soul. He is just a guy that prayed for help. His timing was right and he was willing to be of use. He's also a man of faith in a rather faithless world."

"So he was lucky." Dean's tone was wry. "Now he gets to be sacrificed for what?"

"It's not a sacrifice." Chuck looked a little put out. "The deal with Castiel still stands. At least that's what God says."

"You talk with him?" Dean looked at Chuck with some doubt.

"Yes. I got the major portion of him hanging tight up in here." Chuck tapped his head. "Paul got the majority Amara share, and Sammy here got the majority Lucifer share. Charlotte took a little of everyone. She's mostly just Billie though." Chuck clapped his hands together once and said, "So let's go take care of this ritual."

"What's gonna happen? You still haven't explained a damn thing."

"We're gonna keep our word." Chuck waved at the door and marched out. Everyone followed. Dean took Claire's hand in his and gave it a little squeeze.

"So are we okay with this?" She looked at him as she asked.

"I don't know. They say they're doing what Cas wants, keeping a deal with him. So I really don't know."

Alex came to his other side. "So we believe them?" They all spread out around the area that was cleared in the center of the sigil marked space. The night stars hung high over their heads.

"I don't think we have much of a choice. I just don't get what this is all for." Dean, Claire, and Alex stood off to the side of the group.

Charlotte came up to him. She said, "Chuck wants you all to move outside of the circle. He says that you don't have to be far, but a little outside should do."

"What's gonna happen?" Dean asked.

Charlotte tipped her head to the side and seemed to waver a bit. She was more Billie now. "I thought you'd figured it out with the memories back in place." Dean's brows furrowed at her and so she continued. "Cas took what you said to heart. He decided that our vessels needed to be protected too, not just Sam. So he told God that we needed to put something in place so that we would be released from all of this duty at some point. We had to put in seven years, and he was of the mind that you needed something too."

"What do you mean? What did I need?" Dean asked.

"He wanted you to have a normal life. He said that he'd give up everything if you could have a shot at that. We helped Sam guide you into those college classes way back when. We helped you in many ways. We sent you Charlotte when you needed a friend. And funny thing, she needed one too."

"So was all of it just a manipulation? None of it was real? And now we do this, and you all get to be free of the passengers you're carrying?"

Billie's carried a look of anger for a moment. "Life is a manipulation. Humanity should be nothing today. The world and all that you know of it should be as empty as the space between the stars, but it's not. And it's not because we made sacrifices. We are immortal, and we have chosen to give that up in some form for humanity. What Castiel gave to humanity is no small thing, so to call it a mere manipulation, to call us a bunch of mere passengers smacks of disrespect. I'll have you know that what we'll sacrifice for mankind is far greater than you perhaps deserve." She wavered a bit and Dean could see that she had suddenly become Charlotte again. "Sorry, Dean."

"No, I'm sorry."

She moved to him and set her hands on his arms. He had been holding Alex's and Claire's hands during Billie's tirade. Charlotte hugged him. "Our friendship was real, is real. I'd seek it out even without this. I meant what I said before, all of it." Dean's mind flashed back through their many conversations and also through her stories. He pressed his head into her shoulder and hugged her back.

"You'll be okay then?"

"I will, thanks to Cas." She pulled away and looked at him. "He wanted you to be proud of his choices. He wanted you to be happy. He made sure that we all carried each other in a way that would be of the most help to you and to humanity."

"Charlotte." He started and then paused. She waited. "I get how you all came to be carrying bits of all of the main players. You all were there in some form. But Paul wasn't there. Why did he end up getting this," Dean actually used air quotes then, "gift?" He sucked in a loud breath and added, "I mean, he presumably got them planted years later."

Charlotte looked away. Dean reached out and settled a hand on her cheek, redirecting her back to him. "We knew you were lonely. I sat in his church and heard his lackluster sermons. I tuned into him. He was lonely too. He was, is a good man. He prayed for help. Chuck let me intervene. He said that Cas would approve."

"Wait, you all brought him in because you all were playing matchmaker? What the hell?" Dean was irritated to say the least.

"Well, not quite. We needed a man of faith, and although you have a bit of faith, it wavers. Paul had faith in spades. So, we picked him. Picking him had the added bonus of maybe getting you a partner."

"How about Cas? Maybe just get through this ritual and find a way to restore Cas." Dean huffed out the words with a frustrated hand wave.

"None of us know for sure how this will go, but we think that it ends with the emptying of our vessels. Our powerful friends depart from us and join together as one being again. Once they do that, they leave earth. I believe that part of this ritual is Cas being dissolved in a way. He's what's holding them back. What's in us all is just a small measure of the all powerful ones. We wouldn't have even had that much if he hadn't intervened. It was supposed to just be all of them getting tied together and sent away. Fracturing them and tying them each to the vessels, kept us from dying. It also made freedom for them a possibility too. I believe it gave them an extra touch of what makes humanity so important."

Dean said, "You think that Cas won't get through this?"

"No, he never asked for that, so no plan was ever made for it."

"He knew I needed him. I told him in the same conversation. He'd have a plan. I told him what this would do to me."

"And he made sure to give you just enough hope to get through. And you've come far, Dean Winchester. You've built a real life for yourself that doesn't involve hunting. You've even got a family that loves you." She pointed at Claire then and added, "You're a father to her. You're a brother to Sam." She took his hand in hers. "And when all this is done, you'll still have that." She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "And most importantly, you are enough on your own. You aren't dependant on anyone. You've been beaten down by life and loss, but you've survived, persevered even. You've learned to be strong even when you were alone."

"I wasn't okay. I wasn't strong. I was just getting through."

"And that is sometimes what life is. You matter a great deal. And even when you feel like you've lost everything," She placed a hand on his chest and said, "you've never been alone."

She walked away then and joined hands with Chuck and Paul. Sam was with them too and they each began speaking in unison. A light glowed out around them and the sigils glowed too. Dean felt Claire's hand slip back into his. Alex took his other hand. The light became brighter. Their heads tipped back in unison and they continued to speak out the words of the ritual, practiced incessantly before this day. Dean held on and did not look away. Claire whispered, "It's so beautiful." A wind blew through the field. The smell of lilacs wafted past. The voices grew louder in the circle.

Dean looked away for a moment. He looked to the warehouse. It was glowing too. He let go of Claire's and Alex's hands. They followed his gaze. Dean moved back to the warehouse. The light behind him was growing brighter and brighter. The light coming from the warehouse was intensifying too. He got to the door and then turned back. Everything was so bright. The circle of vessels separated. They were no longer holding hands. They stepped back, widening the circle. Sam looked away from the center toward Dean. They held each other's gaze. "Sam?" Dean moved back to him. Sam just smiled. He turned back to the center and light poured from them all to the center. It whirled about in a giant ball of light. Sam, Chuck, Charlotte, and Paul fell to the ground. "Sam!" Dean was running to him now.

He got to his side, the warehouse temporarily forgotten. He cupped Sam's face and lifted him into his lap. "I'm good, Dean." Sam's eyes fluttered open. Dean held him tighter.

"You the only one in there?" Dean was rocking him.

"Just me. They got what they needed." Dean lifted him into a sitting position.

Paul and Charlotte were getting up. Chuck was still laying on the ground. Sam got up and moved to Chuck's side. "He okay?" Dean asked.

"I think so. He's breathing," Sam said.

Dean glanced back at the warehouse. It wasn't glowing anymore. "I need to check on him." He got up and moved off to the warehouse. He walked right in and saw that Cas' body was still glowing a little. He knelt down at his side. Touched his cheek and whispered, "Come back." The glow began to fade, and he noticed that Cas began to fade too. "No, oh no, no, no." Cas became less tangible. His body faded until there was nothing. Dean's hands fell to the floor and Cas was gone. The tie that had bound them all to earth was now seemingly entirely burned away. They were free. Dean felt empty and utterly alone.


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: This chapter contains a small portion of E rated material.**

* * *

Dean felt the cold air from outside bite into him as he drove down the highway alone. He didn't go back to the motel. He didn't talk to the others. He just left. He'd feel bad about leaving them, but he had no room left in his heart for any more. He didn't stop anywhere for the night. He stopped for gas and that was it. He drove on until he came to the bunker, where he pulled into the garage, shut off the engine and went inside. It had been forever and no time at all. He thought he'd go back to his apartment, but that felt wrong somehow. He wanted to be at the bunker. He also wanted to be alone. He turned off his phone and tossed it into the passenger's seat and left it there.

He wandered to his old room where his bare mattress was waiting. He tossed himself onto it face down and fell promptly to sleep. It had been 24 hours since he had seen Cas' face, held his body in his arms, watched him fade away. He didn't think he'd ever be able to sleep with those things floating in his mind, but sometimes one's body just has to give up.

On July 3rd he woke up and rolled onto his back. It might have been day. It might have been night. He had no way of knowing for sure without getting up, so he did. He wandered into the war room and looked up at the stairs and the windows there. There was light, so it was day. He moved off to the kitchen and rummaged for something to eat. The place was not well stocked seeing as Sam had been with him for some time. He opened a cupboard and found one of those single serving cups of Easy Mac. He wondered if those things expired. Then he laughed at the thought that after years of fighting demons it could be the Easy Mac that finally takes him down.

He peeled back the plastic lid, filled it with water and put it in the microwave. Everything echoed, the opening of the drawer, the metal utensil set on the countertop, the crash of the pots that he grabs and throws across the room against the wall. He screams and slides down to the floor against the wall. The microwave beeps as it finishes and he closes his eyes against the world.

He pulls himself together enough to eat. Dean's head is swimming. He feels too warm. He rummages through the cabinets until he turns up a bottle of Old Number 7. He carries it back to his room and drinks until he blacks out.

The next day passes in a haze. He thinks when he sleeps that he might dream of him, but Cas doesn't come to him. Dean prays, yet he still hears nothing in response. _I told you it was a shitty plan. I told you that I needed you._ His words trailed off in his mind. He was angry and depressed. He had allowed himself to hope again. Now there was nothing, just a long string of empty days stretching out ahead of him. And Cas wasn't human. And Dean was. So somewhere in Dean's head, he had decided that there could be no reunion even in death.

By the 7th, Dean had decided that he'd need to leave. By this point Sam would have checked the apartment and found that Dean had not gone there. He'd likely check the bunker next. Dean found some old clothes hanging in the closet, took them to the bathroom where he showered and changed. The clothes were a tad musty, but they were better than the outfit he'd been wearing nonstop since even before he got to the bunker.

He took a final walk around the bunker, passing the door to Cas' room. They'd given him the space; although, he had never seemed to use it. Dean opened the door and stood looking in at the sparse place. There was a bed and a chair. Cas had a desk with some books, papers, and pens. Dean walked in slowly, breathing in deeply of the stale air within. He closed his eyes and imagined the smell of crisp ocean breezes and all the other scents he associated with Cas. He opened his eyes and looked down at the desk. The notepad on the desk had writing on it.

Dean reached out to it and let his fingers trail over the letters. The words were Enochian. There were symbols drawn around the edges too. None of it seemed to mean anything. It looked like doodling. He turned the page and saw that Cas had drawn a more elaborate picture. Dean sank into the chair to look at it more closely. It was a familiar image. It was a drawing of he and Cas sitting on the hood of the Impala under the starry sky. Dean felt the tiniest pin-prick of tears threatening to spill over.

"Cas.," he whispered as his fingers grazed over the drawing. _It meant something to you too._ He noted the way that Cas captured details in the small piece. In particular, Dean noticed how Cas had drawn their hands meeting in the middle, holding on. Dean's hand curled into a fist at his side as he thought about that night again, and the feel of Cas so perfectly close. He turned the page and saw that Cas had drawn the same image again, but a little different. This one had them pressed close together, Cas' head dipped down to Dean's head. Cas looked like he was kissing him. Dean smiled at the image, at the memory that it stirred. "If we'd just figured out our shit then. If I'd just figured out my shit then."

Dean traced over the edges of the drawing and noticed that Cas had even meticulously drawn the constellations into the sky. Most would just doodle and include a few random spots to represent stars, but Cas was not like most. Dean could see the accuracy now that he might not have seen if these drawings had come his way before years of study and focus on astronomy.

In the corner of the drawn sky was Denab. Dean stared at it. It seemed he was doomed to forever being haunted by a universe that was his Cas. He turned the page, and it was a drawing of the sky. It was just the constellations surrounding the quadrant that included Denab. Dean thought about that. He picked up the notepad and walked out to the front of the bunker. He stood in the middle of the room for a moment and just breathed. The observatory was there, unused for so many years.

Dean made his way in and stood at the side of the giant telescope. His hand brushed over the cool metal. His other hand still clutched the notepad. He began adjusting the telescope, aiming it at the coordinates that he knew by heart. He always knew where Denab was. He followed it's place in the sky like it mattered. It had, in his mind, belonged to him and Cas. That star, that constellation, was theirs.

It was the seventh day in the seventh month in the seventh year of Dean's loss. He leaned down to look at their star. And though he knew that nothing would be different, that looking at it would change nothing, he looked just the same, because if it was there, then so was Cas. It was there. It was theirs. Dean sat at the foot of the telescope and swiped away the tears that were gathering in his eyes. The stars, their stars were there, and they would always be there.

* * *

The twilight sky became full night, and Dean stayed in the observatory. He kept his hand on the telescope. It tethered him to the world and made him feel connected somehow to something of Cas. He had no hope of ever getting him back, but he had decided then to live out his days in this room with this view of their sky.

Dean's thoughts were interrupted by an unexpected voice."You can't stay locked up here forever." Dean jumped back from where he was crouched at the telescope and looked at the man that stood in his doorway. He looked like Chuck, but Dean could see that it was not Chuck. He was something more.

Dean let out a breath of frustration then said, "Yes, actually I can."

"He wouldn't want that."

"Doesn't matter what he'd want now, though, does it?"

"You'll have to tell me." He moved closer to Dean. Dean went back to looking at the stars through the telescope. "What are you looking for?"

"Anything that is far from here."

"You're looking for Cas."

"I'm looking at the stars."

"But you're thinking of him when you do that."

"Get out of my head." Dean turned from the telescope and glared at Chuck's form. "I barely let Cas do that. I'm certainly not gonna let you."

"You really have no choice. All powerful being here."

"Ain't that great. Thought that you wanted all of us to have free will. Seems the least you could do is let me exercise mine." Dean turned back to the telescope and tried to look as if he was ignoring him. He wasn't though. He thought that he could feel the gentle retreat of grace from his mind at least.

"I'm sorry. Boundaries were never my strong suit."

"Says the guy that ran away from all responsibilities and set up barriers to his discovery." Dean adjusted a knob at the side of the telescope and then returned his hand to the cool metal at the side.

"Why do you think he's out there?"

Dean heaved out a sigh and leaned away from the telescope, resting back on his haunches. "He told me once that if he were ever heroic enough that he'd like to have a place in the stars. I imagine that he was plenty heroic enough, so I sometimes think that I might find his form up there." It was the first time that Dean had admitted to his starry fixation. He wondered if he had been manipulated into sharing it now.

"Oh." He waited a beat, then asked, "Do you think that would be a good reward?"

"I think that would be a shitty reward. Doesn't matter what I think though. What matters is that he's happy, that he got what he had hoped for." Dean ran his hand back up through his hair and stared down at the floor between his feet. "I plan on spending the last bit of energy that I have looking out at the sky, looking to the stars until I find him or until I can't look anymore. So, I'm gonna just kindly ask you to leave me the hell alone."

"Such disrespect. It's why I think I always liked you, why we always liked you." He settled a hand on Dean's shoulder, and Dean could not shrug it off. Instead he was standing now with the weight of that hand on him. "Lucifer would say, he never liked you. He tolerated you well enough. You won over the others though. You won over me. When you look to the stars now, I hope that you'll look for us there too."

Dean croaked out, "Why?"

"Because if you look for us there, maybe then, I won't believe that you hate us for all that we've let you suffer. Maybe then, I can imagine that we've received your forgiveness."

"Are you planning something? What are you doing?" Dean was able to separate himself from Chuck then and noticed the way that Chuck just smiled at him. For a moment he could see other faces hidden in Chuck's countenance.

"I think that it might be time for us to give everyone their just rewards." Chuck smiled at him and added, "It has been a pleasure watching you Dean Winchester." His face shifted, and Amara's voice emerged, "Make sure he knows, what you mean to each other. Your humanity was what taught me to love." Another shift happened, and Billie's voice said, "Take care of Charlotte. Make sure that she knows how to be careful with her mortal flesh, not that you know anything about how one should be careful."

"I don't understand what's happening." Dean was frozen to the spot. He had his hand on the telescope to hold himself up. He still had it aimed at Denab.

"We only need to be tied here if the world needs our intervention. We've talked, and we've listened. We think that maybe the world will be just fine without us. In fact, it might even be better once we leave."

"What're you saying?" Dean could hardly get the words out. He was starting to shake with some measure of dread. _After all of this...after all that they did...now they were just going to up and leave._

The voice that emerged now was that of Lucifer. He said, "Don't make me regret this. I was all for staying, but they said I couldn't torment you, so I agreed to the leaving. After all what fun would staying be now?" Dean took an unconscious step back. The voice shifted back to Billie's. "We needed to all be bound for this to even be a possibility. We had to go through the ritual. We were all here, all communicating with each other, but we were still bound to humanity. We needed to honor the last of Cas' demands. We learned from the human vessels that carried us, and now we are ready to leave as one. The ritual was the final step. Chuck thought that you would have trouble accepting the choices we were making even given the outcome."

"What's the outcome?"

"Well, there are many. One, we won't be here to heal the sick, or answer the prayers of those in need. No new creations will come to be. Mankind will be on its own."

"That's a lot."

"Yes, but the reward is that you all get to truly live with free will. This is a gift."

"Well, I'll remember to send a thank you card."

"There's more." She moved to Dean and set what seemed to be her hand lightly on his cheek. It was cold but not painfully so. "God felt that you deserved your reward too."

"Not sure I like the sound of that." Dean could have sworn that he saw a smile spread across what was the face of the being.

"I'll miss your wit Dean Winchester." She slipped away from him and faded back toward the door. Chuck's form wavered into the moment. "Goodbye Dean." He stepped back another step and seemed to fade. "You should go outside later. Denab is bright tonight." He winked and with a smile bright and beautiful, he faded away.

Dean fell to his knees and thought that he might throw up. He breathed deeply and tried to push past the choking that he was experiencing. He stood up slowly. Then the voice that he had heard a million times in his waking life and for the last several years in dreams said, "Dean."

Dean's eyes snapped to the doorway. He sucked in a sharp breath and stood frozen to the spot. Cas was standing there dressed just like he always was. His hair was finger combed back and his eyes shown bright and blue. "Cas." It was all he could choke out. Cas' eyes glowed less, but they still looked like they held the light of all of the stars, all of history, and the universe. Dean wanted to go to him, but he just couldn't move.

"This was not how I pictured our reunion." Cas smiled and added, "Somehow, I thought we'd be closer." That did it. Dean stalked over to him in two strides and pulled him in. He wasn't kissing him. He was holding him as tight to him as he could. His arms were around his shoulders and his waist. Cas held him too, just as tightly. Dean buried his head in the crook of Cas' neck and just breathed him in as he lost himself. He was crying. Here was everything. Here was what he had needed and wanted. Here was his universe. He couldn't speak just yet, but Cas smoothed soothing circles into the space between his shoulders and murmured into the spot near his ear. "I'm home, Dean."

"I never let myself really believe you'd be back with me." He leaned away a little and looked at his blurry Cas past his tears.

Cas reached up and wiped them away. "I never left you. I was always here." He tapped Dean's chest then let his hand sit there.

"So this is your reward?"

Cas raised an eyebrow. "Maybe."

"What do you mean?"

Cas cupped his face in his hands and said, "We don't have much time, and it's been seven years, Dean."

"What do you mean?" Dean was starting to get worried. _Not much time...No, no, no…_

Cas moved in impossibly closer and kissed him. It was light and seemed like the kind of kiss that one gives when they are testing the waters. Dean had not yet moved past his worries. Yet here was Cas, and Cas had kissed him. A small sob escaped Dean as he pressed his own kiss back to him. He held him like he thought the universe might rip him away again. He held him like all the world could be theirs if only they just hoped hard enough. He closed his eyes and drowned in everything Cas.

He focused on Cas' fingers in his hair. His tongue slid alongside Cas' own and they tasted each other. Cas had a little stubble on his chin and cheeks that rubbed against him gloriously. _He's mine. He's mine, and I'll be damned if anyone takes this from me again._ Cas broke the kiss then and said, "I am yours. I'll always be your's if you want that. It's a choice though, and not one to be made lightly." He looked past Dean then like he was searching for something. "How much time has passed?"

Dean considered his words and said, "Are you going somewhere or something?"

"Maybe. We don't have much time."

"You keep saying that. What the hell is going on, Cas?" Cas moved back closer again and seemed like he was going to kiss Dean again. Dean didn't let him.

"I'm sorry. It's a lot. My time with you is limited. I want to make the most of it in case this is it."

"What? How limited?"

"Seven hours." Cas let him go for a few seconds then seemingly realizing the mistake, pulled Dean back to him again.

Dean stood in shock. "No." It was all he could say. He shook and his face dropped to Cas' shoulder. Cas held him. And Dean couldn't even do anything but fall apart. "I can't lose you again. I can't."

"I don't ever want to take anything from you. Right now though, we can have this." Cas kissed into his neck. His hands found their way under his shirt and settled against his skin. Dean couldn't handle what was to come, the loss. He couldn't see himself content with a mere seven hours. It wasn't a reward; it was torture. He sobbed into the kisses that came and Cas moved them both to the back of the bunker. How he did this without zapping them there or making them trip over anything was nothing short of a miracle. In time they were in his room, and though no one else was in the bunker, Cas kicked the door closed behind him. "I love you."

"I love you." Dean repeated instantly. He knew the limits on their time left little room for dithering. "I need you." They pulled off layers of clothing and slowly edged back to the bed. When there was nothing but them and the darkness like so much night in the room, Dean backed himself into the mattress.

"You don't have sheets on your bed." Cas stood in front of Dean, his breath warm on Dean's cheek.

"I kinda neglected some things." Dean ran his hands up Cas' arms. The light in the hall was giving them a little illumination past the grate on the door. Cas smiled and leaned into Dean. They swayed a bit in each other's arms.

"I'm always gonna be with you." He kissed along Dean's clavicle. He moved his hands languidly over his ribs to his hips. Cas moved away for him for a moment and looked into Dean's closet. He found some blankets and put them on the bed. Dean sat back and Cas loomed over him. He rested a hand on Dean's cheek and let his fingers reach back into his hair. Dean lowered himself back onto the mattress and pulled Cas down with him. The weight of Cas on him was more than just arousing, it was a reminder that he was here, completely here. No matter how often he said that he was always with him, Dean did not think that a general feeling was enough. He needed to touch and taste. He needed to have the tangibleness of it all. He needed more than dreams.

They ceased talking and lived in the moment. In Dean's mind, a clock was counting down the seconds, the minutes, the hours he had left to really live. He tried to empty his mind of the worry. Cas rocked his hips into him, encouraging forgetfulness. Dean stared into his eyes at the stars that he thought he saw there, and he wanted to hang onto this moment forever. He wanted to make it last. He breathed Cas in and told him with his hands, with his mouth, with every look, what he meant, what he would always mean to him.

Their bodies seemed to move together like they were a single wave rocking far out at sea. Dean could see nothing but Cas as they moved together. He reached into his nightstand and found what he was looking for without ever looking away from Cas. He brought the lube to his side and Cas leaned back a little. Dean slicked his hand up and moved to grip them both at once. He watched Cas' face for signs that this was working for them both.

Cas licked his lips and closed his eyes a little, seeming happy with the new contact between them. He opened his eyes and smiled down at Dean. "I can't believe that I get to have this." He ran a hand up to Dean's face and held his cheek as Dean continued his ministrations.

Dean wanted to pull him down to him, taste him again and never stop. "You can have everything, whatever you want."

With those words, Cas came back down to him. His chest pressed to Dean's. Dean had to release them both. He moved his hands around Cas' waist and kissed into his neck. He felt a curl of grace slip through him. He leaned away and looked into Cas' eyes, trying to convey the _why_ without actually asking. "I wanted to make sure you were healthy. I haven't been able to help you like this in a long time."

"So you figured now was the moment to mojo me?" Dean laughed a little.

Cas shrugged. "You said, 'whatever I wanted.'"

"Didn't think healing me was a turn on." Dean moved his hands up to Cas' shoulder blades.

"You'd be surprised." Cas leaned down and kissed behind his ear. Nuzzling in he breathed into the space, "Is it really so hard to imagine that being inside you in any way is less than stimulating?"

Dean hadn't thought of it that way, at least not with regards to Cas' feelings. For him it was always an intimate thing. For them it was always different too. In the past, Cas let his grace linger in Dean. He let his hands settle long on Dean's cheek or forehead. It was never the quick tap and done like it was for others. "It feels good for me too," Dean encouraged.

The grace whirled around in him some more. It coursed through him from head to toe. It was massaging away the aches accumulated over long years. It was warming the cold places. It was finding the places that had long since forgotten what it was to feel comfort and love. It also stimulated pleasure in Dean in a way that was intense and almost too much. "Is this okay?" Dean looked up at him and saw what it was to be well and truly loved.

"Anything you want. It's what I want too." And the grace pooled to a singular spot over his prostate. Cas' hands moved down to Dean's thighs and angled them out and up a little. He wedged himself between Dean's legs, dropping kisses to whatever skin was nearest. Dean could feel his body stretch and sting with pleasure.

"I want our bodies to be together too."

"I want that," Dean whispered.

Cas angled himself and pushed slowly into Dean. He held him as he moved by slow increments as if he thought that Dean might break. Dean laughed at him a few moments later when Cas had not made much progress and grabbed his hips to pull him the rest of the way to him. "Oh." It was all that Cas could say to that.

It took a few minutes more for them to establish a rhythm that worked. Everything was new and a little awkward. They hadn't done this before with each other, so it stood to reason that they'd need to work out the kinks. Cas filled him with himself and the grace. Dean felt like he wasn't dying anymore. This moment was all of the life he had been missing these last seven years. It was more than that; though, it was also all that he had come to believe that he'd never have and never deserve.

"God, I love you," Dean said as the spread of pleasure ran from his prostate to his whole body. His leg muscles tightened, and his eyes rolled back into his head.

"Let's leave my father out of this, if you don't mind." Dean's eyes locked onto Cas then. Cas dropped his hand to Dean's hip and angled him a bit better, and _that works._ Then Cas repositioned his other hand onto Dean. He began stroking him harder, running his thumb over the top each time he came to it. Dean noticed the pacing of Cas' movements as they became more erratic. He wanted this. He wanted this so much. They both did. And time passed slowly like long summer days as they moved together. The warmth and closeness, the way that it all seemed so right, the way that he and Cas held on, made it possible to forget time. It was possible as minutes passed and maybe hours, that there wasn't any time at all or that they had all of the time in the world. This was their eternity or could be if they just let themselves believe it.

The world around them seemed to fall away until it was just Cas over him, staring down into his face with so much love that it was all Dean could think about. He'd never want anything more. _Just this. Just this._ Cas' hand tightened around him and moved up his shaft with a little twist at the end for good measure. He'd give anything to have told his younger self about this, to have encouraged him to step up and make this happen sooner. He could tell that they were nearing their end.

 _This can't be it. This can't be all I get of him._ The thought crashed back in an instant as they reached their climax together. Dean was shaking through it as Cas slowly slumped down to him, kissing him like he was all that would ever matter. Dean pulled him tighter to him and pressed his head into Cas' shoulder. His breathing was sharp and painful. It was stabbing at his lungs with no tenderness. He felt all of his muscles tightening around Cas like he had to fight to keep him there. "Please don't leave me. Please, Cas. Please don't leave me again," he murmured again and again into his neck, as if Cas had ever truly chosen to leave him in the first place, as if he knew what it even was to choose anything that wasn't for Dean.


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: This chapter also contains some E rated material.**

* * *

They laid together in the bed for some time. Dean was certain that he had never cried like this. Cas for his part rubbed soothing circles into Dean's back and held him tight to his chest. Dean thought that at any moment Cas would fade as he had at the warehouse. He thought that at any moment he'd be holding the air and dying just a little right after.

Cas murmured love into his ear. The warmth of the words left him wanting more again. He could feel Cas' smile against his skin. Cas got up though. Dean silently cursed himself for not holding on tighter. Cas was pulling on clothes. "What're you doing?" Dean asked.

"Just putting on some clothes. You should do the same." Cas tossed Dean some pants and a t-shirt from the floor.

For no good reason, Dean complied. He watched Cas slowly drag the pants up over his thighs and Dean felt admiration for the form that stood before him. He had held all of that in his hands. He had held Cas. A small smile ghosted over his face. Cas moved to him and stared down at him. Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed with his t-shirt still in his hands. He had managed the pants just fine. Cas reached down and took the shirt from Dean's lap. "What?" Dean asked.

"You looked like you needed help." Cas held the shirt open over Dean's head and Dean reached up into it. Cas smoothed it down over Dean's chest. He reached out and took Dean's hand and pulled him up. "Slip on some shoes." Cas moved to the door where his shoes were and slipped them on without socks. Dean thought that looked uncomfortable, but Cas was an angel so it likely didn't matter.

Dean slipped his own shoes on, but he managed to include socks. "Are we going somewhere?"

"Yes, Dean." Cas reached out and took Dean's hand and walked out of the room together. Dean started to feel the anxiety kicking up again.

"Where are we going?" Dean let go of Cas' hand and stopped walking when they got to the foot of the stairs.

Cas hooked a finger in the top of Dean's pants and pulled him along. "There isn't much more night left. I thought that we could step outside and look at the stars again, like we did years ago."

Dean followed along. They got outside and Cas looped an arm around Dean's waist. Dean said, "I'm freaking out a little."

Dean felt a warm flow of grace tickle up through him. Cas had been doing that periodically whenever Dean began to feel to anxious. "Is that helping?" They got to an empty field next to the bunker.

"Yes," Dean said. They stepped over some discarded concrete blocks. The field was likely going to have something built on it that never came to be. There were the cinderblocks, and also some concrete cylinders that looked like they would've offered up some sort of support for a large building. Cas found one that was near the field's center and sat on the edge of it.

The edges of the sky were lighter. The stars were plenty. Cas pulled Dean to the spot next to him. Another little pulse of grace flitted through Dean's being, caressing away the worry and ache that kept encroaching on the moment. "It's not my grace from before. That's gone for the most part, but I suppose that this is mine now. Possession is 9/10ths of the law I've been told." Cas' fingers curled around Dean's. His thumb stroked a trail back and forth over Dean's hand.

"Where'd it come from?" Dean looked at the side of Cas' face as he stared out at the night sky. Dean wanted to focus on anything that wasn't Cas leaving. Cas for his part was dialing down his own emotions.

"It's a gift from them. It is a bit of what they were made of. It is why I'll fade away in time. There's a reason that they can't stay here. Their essence is being cast out into the sky and what remains here will fade to nothing. As this grace burns away so too will my time here."

Dean felt worry again, and the grace licked away at it. "Stop doing that." The grace retreated.

"Why?"

"We'll lose time together if you waste it on me."

Cas pulled him closer to his side. Cas allowed for some of the emotion from earlier to show. His eyes were pools just about to overflow. "Nothing I've done with you was a waste. Let me have this." Cas cupped Dean's face with his free hand and drew him into a deep kiss. It could turn into more easily. Cas' tongue swept the roof of Dean's mouth. When he backed off a little, it was just to bite at Dean's lower lip and suck it into his mouth. Dean closed his eyes and let the world swim around him. Cas pulled away and Dean chased the kiss a little before opening his eyes.

"More," Dean whispered as he stared at Cas' deep blue eyes so close, so real, so here.

"The others will be here soon." Cas rested his forehead on Dean's own. "They're less than a mile away now."

"Is that why we're out here? You wanted to say goodbye to them?" Dean's heart was pounding from the kiss and the worry that came back again.

"Partly. I wanted to explain things, and I wanted to sit with you under our sky."

"I won't survive it, Cas. I won't." Cas leaned back and looked at him a moment. "I know you think that I'm strong enough, but this little bit with you, it's not enough."

"You made it through before, and had the second ritual been unnecessary, you might have had a shot at moving on with someone new. I wish that I had explained the necessity for such things where you're concerned."

"What the hell, Cas? What the hell do you mean?" Dean stood up and paced in front of him.

"I only meant that you could have moved on with the preacher. He is kind. I want you to have peace, and he could supply that without you having to give up a thing." Cas watched him, his head moving back and forth with Dean's angry pacing.

"So you were watching me, this whole time?"

"Not exactly."

Dean stopped pacing and loomed up over him. Cas looked up at Dean. "So, you weren't exactly watching me, but you managed to determine that Paul was a nice guy?"

"I was the one binding them all together. When Paul took on the essences, I was well and truly aware of his character. He was, is as you put it, a nice guy." Cas' voice dropped into a low gravel that would normally have Dean's arousal kicked up into the stratosphere, but at this moment, he was much more concerned with Cas' grave misconceptions. "In time perhaps you can come to love him."

"Fuck you, Cas. Fuck you." Dean shoved him hard. It was only because Cas was surprised by the action that he moved just a little. "How could you think for even one second, that there is anything in here." He tapped his chest. "Anything, that isn't yours. When I let him kiss me, I was thinking about you. When he kissed me a second time, I was trying not to think about you, then I went to bed and thought about you. When he approached me a third time, guess what…" Dean grabbed Cas' face and stared hard into his eyes. "He asked me to leave with him. I couldn't, because the only thing I wanted was you. Didn't matter that you were gone. Didn't matter that I had zero hope of ever getting even the smallest moment with you again, but damn it I wasn't interested in filling my bed with mister second best." Dean came down lower, still holding Cas' face in his hands. "It's you or it's no one. You gotta know that. Look in my head. Look at what I've been. I've been shit without you."

The curl of grace slipped into Dean. He felt the warm flow of it like water washing over him. It reminded him of the light that had covered him before, of the comfort and love that he had felt in those moments. "It feels the same, because it is from the same source." Cas interrupted his thoughts.

"The light was you?"

"And also you. It was my grace inside you pushing out to the world around you. It was trying to provide comfort, since I wasn't here to do it personally."

Dean's thumb stroked a path over Cas' cheek. "So you see in there, how it was, how I've been?"

"I see." Cas looked saddened and Dean believed that maybe he did understand. "I'm sorry."

"So you have to see now, why I can't do this," he waved his hands at his sides, "without you."

Cas looked away and said, "When we did the first ritual, I took what you said to heart." He looked back at Dean. "You said that we had to protect the vessels. I went a step further though. I thought about humanity too. I spoke with my father and told him that we needed to protect them. I explained that just tying them all to me wasn't going to be enough. My love for humanity," Cas paused and added, "My love for you, was possibly not going to be the thing to convince Amara to see things differently. Luckily my father agreed."

"And this was why he agreed to the whole keeping of the fractured essences in the vessels?"

"Yes. It tied them to humanity. They were these big powerful beings that couldn't see anymore what it was to be human." Dean came back to the spot next to Cas and sat down. Cas continued, "God was using Chuck's vessel to roam the earth, Amara had a body, Lucifer had made the rounds, and then there was Billie. Yet each of them took over their vessels. They did not commune with the humanity that gave them form, they merely used them to gain form. Once they were broken a little, they could see what beauty lies in mankind. They could then see what it was to feel all that humanity felt without the trappings of their power getting in the way."

"Seems like they could have seen it through you."

"I'm just an angel, a broken one at that. My feelings could be discounted. But paired with the others, they could see it, and it worked. They learned. And we had the added bonus of sealing off Hell and protecting mankind from the demons that might not like all of this progress." Cas smiled then. "It has been better here, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, Cas. You did good." Cas' smile grew with the compliment. "So you made a deal with God and got to save the vessels, save humanity, and in all of that, you didn't make a deal for yourself?"

Cas' smile fell a little. "My desires in this were not important."

"Really?"

"They weren't, yet somehow, my father gave me this reward. I was given time with you."

"What will happen to you?" Dean's voice dropped low.

"They plan to linger in the stars. I fear that they were influenced by me a bit. I wanted to be at home there." He pointed toward Denab. "I wanted to know that I could look down at this place, and that I'd never bring harm to anyone here. I wanted to be able to look down from there and see you happy and alive with no one bringing you pain or trouble."

"So they're going to hang around Denab, our patch of sky, and what will happen to you?" Dean's worry spiked again, as Cas did not answer the question the first time it was asked. He had merely stated what he had wanted and not what would be.

Cas took his hand. "I don't know. I'll fade away, maybe join them. I'm not sure what comes next."

Before Dean could question this any further, Claire's truck and a second unfamiliar car pulled up near the field. His people emerged from the vehicles. Claire raised a hand to her forehead and peered out across the now not so dark field toward them. Dean could hear her even from this distance. "Cas!" She was running toward them now.

Dean and Cas both stood up together. The others were running over in her wake. She collided with Cas, full force. "Claire." He said her name into her hair and hugged her tight.

After a few moments of this, Claire let him go a little, but not entirely. Dean said, "Really, you're not happy to see me too."

Claire reached over with one hand and pulled him into their space. "You ass. You left us. I told you Cas would be saved. Told you."

Dean felt her words like lead in his gut. He couldn't tell her anything. He couldn't tell her that Cas had maybe mere minutes with them. He was doing all he could to just not fall apart. He felt the wetness on his cheeks though and saw that he was losing his battle. He looked over Claire's head and saw Sam. He moved closer to them and wrapped his own arms around them all. "Dean, next time warn us when you go running off."

Dean let out a small laugh, that was not a happy sound. "I'll try." Somehow that was the thing to make them all separate and just look at each other. Paul, and Billie stood just behind Sam, and Chuck had his hand on Dean's shoulder. Alex came up to Claire and rested a hand on her arm.

"I missed you, Cas," Claire said. She turned to Alex and said, "This is Cas. Cas, this is Alex, my fiance."

Cas quirked up his lip into a little half grin. He reached out a hand to Alex, who took it. "It is a pleasure to meet you." Dean was freaking out again. Everyone was acting like everything was normal. It wasn't normal. Everything was wrong. _EVERYTHING IS WRONG,_ Dean silently screamed.

And it was then that Paul cleared his throat and said, "Something's wrong."

Cas let go of Alex's hand and looked at him. "Nothing is wrong."

Thankfully, no one believed him. Claire said, "What's wrong? What's happening? Cas?"

He huffed out a long suffering breath of air but did not answer. Dean said, "He's only here for a short while more. He's going to fade away and leave us. Said that he would only get seven hours and that there was no way to get more."

"I'm sorry," Cas husked out. The sky was growing brighter. "I feel content. I've been given something I'll always cherish. I got to see you all again. I got to know that you will all live."

"It's not enough," Dean said again. "Cas." He was near tears.

"He's not telling you everything." Paul walked up closer as he said it, and the others parted a little to make room for him.

"Stop," Cas' words were a low threat, the kind of tone he typically used before unleashing the full wrath of Heaven.

"No, angel. You must tell them." Paul stood his ground and maybe even puffed himself up a little. Cas moved toward him, like he might actually follow up his verbal threat with a very real smiting. Dean stepped between them.

Dean raised his hand to Cas' chest. "What's he talking about Cas? What do you need to tell us?"

Cas didn't look at him. Instead he looked over Dean's shoulder to Paul. "How are you doing that?"

"It was a parting gift for what we did. I have been given a little leftover power. I can apparently still see thoughts. I see your thoughts." Cas moved a little at that. Paul continued, and Dean stayed between them. "Billie will live a long life, but she won't be immortal." He waved a hand toward Chuck then and said, "What about you Chuck?"

"I'm getting the prophet thing again. Oh, that and I can play the guitar. I could play before, but he made sure I got some professional grade skills. I think that was the thing God really wanted to give me, but the others were being so _generous_." Chuck laughed a little with the last word. "Guess I might get back into writing again."

Sam and Dean both said, at the same time, "NO."

Paul said, "So, Castiel, you need to tell them how they can save you or I will."

Cas stared at Paul like he could blast a hole through his head with a mere look. Dean reached up to Cas and gently settled his hand on his cheek.

"Cas, how can we save you?"

"You can't. He's wrong," Cas said.

Paul interrupted, "He's afraid of what it could do to you."

"You must stop. Don't you value his life even a little. Don't you think that I checked? It won't work. I thought that it might, but I checked and it won't. So stop getting his hopes up. It's hard enough as it is."

"Tell me what you're hiding. If it really won't work then keeping it to yourself is pointless." Dean held his cheek still, and Cas stared at just him.

"When I pressed my grace into you before, I wasn't just healing you. I was checking our bond. More specifically, I was checking on the grace that I had left within you when I first pulled you from Hell. You were fractured and torn. I stitched your soul together using my grace. I had thought that maybe I could pull some of it from you, that I might be able to use it to live a somewhat human life here."

"Do it then. I support this." Dean dropped his hands to Cas' shoulders and gave him a little shake with his words.

"I can't. Taking it from you would likely harm your soul. The two are quite bonded, and the removal of one might not be possible without some of your soul coming along too. Plus the amount I'd need to take from you would need to be significant to even make this worth it, and taking that much would absolutely harm you." He took a deep, needless breath and whispered to just Dean, "I won't hurt you. I won't want to live if I hurt you."

"It's worth the risk. You keep saying words like might and likely. I think that means that we have a shot at doing this right. If I have anything in me that can save you, it's yours, Cas."

"It's not worth it."

"It is. Please. You've seen what I've been without you."

Claire spoke up then. "You can also have the bit of grace that you left in me."

Cas looked at her, tipping his head in that way that he sometimes did when he was surprised by a thought. He moved away from Dean and stood close to Claire. "May I?" He reached out to her and she nodded.

He touched her near her temple and closed his eyes. "It's enough, right?" She asked.

Cas let her go and smiled. "I didn't know how much had clung to you. It's been many years."

"I'm your vessel. Last of the line. Of course it's still in here," She said, smiling up at him.

"I wish to leave some of it in there as a protection for you. It has, I hope, provided some comfort in my absence?" Cas' words sent a spike of hope through Dean.

"I think it has. It's the light, isn't it?" Claire was so calm, smiling up at Cas like everything was just fine and always would be.

"It is," Cas whispered to her and dropped a kiss into her hair.

"So, we're good?" Dean looked from one to the other. "We gonna do this thing?"

Claire said, "Go for it. I'm ready." And like that, they all moved closer together, forming a tiny knot separated from the others.

Cas reached out one hand toward Dean's cheek. Cas' other hand settled on Claire's face as well. Before anything happened he looked at Dean and said, "If it seems like anything is going wrong, I'll know, and I'll stop. I won't let you get hurt. If it is our fate to end like this, if I'm meant to fade away from you, know that I loved you entirely and that I'll take that with me."

"Fuck fate. Fuck it Cas. We are not fated to anything. And as far as hurting me goes, nothing will hurt worse than losing you again, so don't go looking for any little excuse to stop this. You risked everything on the off chance that you'd save humanity, me. You tied yourself to God, Lucifer, the Darkness, and Death. You gave up everything, so now I'm asking you to take a goddamn chance again. Defy the stars or fate or whatever it is that you think is controlling our destiny. Take your grace back and live."

Cas smiled at him with a look of such genuine pride. When he spoke, his words were something in Enochian that Dean did not recognize. Dean felt a painful pulling in his chest like he was being ripped apart from the inside. He stared at Cas and schooled his expression in an attempt at not worrying Cas. Claire's face was not as controlled. Her brows came together in concentration and something like pain. Dean felt Cas pressing his head back a little and something snaked up his throat and out of his mouth.

In the early dawn light, Dean and Claire stood before Cas and all their world as Cas' grace curled up from their lips into the air between them. Dean felt Cas ease off of him. He couldn't say anything to encourage him, so he instead reached out and grabbed Cas' arm. More grace spooled out of him into the space between them. Claire reached out to Cas and held his arm as well. Grace danced from her mouth to the same space. Cas dropped his hand from them and opened his mouth to the light. It rushed into him like a river flowing swiftly home to the open sea, and it was likely the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen.

He felt a little different. His chest ached a bit, like his lungs were bigger than his ribcage. "Are you okay," Cas asked.

Dean felt his legs giving out a little, but Cas held him up. "Yes. You?" Dean asked.

"Yes." He looked at Claire then and asked, "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?" Alex was at her back, bracing her.

"I'm absolutely fine, Cas." She moved closer to him and pulled him into a hug.

When she released him, Cas turned his attention to Dean. "Some of your soul came too." He settled his hands on Dean's arms. "I will understand if you feel differently now. I know that some of your affection for me must have been a product of our bond. If you no longer…" Cas did not get to finish, as Dean stopped his words with a kiss.

Dean parted from him briefly enough to say, "Shut-up, Cas." Then he moved back to him again and kissed him in front of everyone like the world was finally his and life needed to be celebrated. Cas eventually wrapped his arms tight around Dean lifted him more into his arms and kissed him back like he believed that it wasn't a goodbye and might never be one.

Chuck interrupted their moment with a loud whoop of enthusiasm. They parted and smiled at the rest of the group. Chuck moved to Cas' side and Charlotte, Sam, and Paul joined him. Chuck said, "I think that we now know what it was they wanted from us at the end." He looked to the others. They each settled a hand on Cas.

Paul said, "It won't be enough to have your diminishing grace. We can help with this though." He nodded to Charlotte.

"Billie had been quite capable when matters involved souls. Seems you might be in more need of a soul than just this spot of grace." She reached up to his cheek, and tipped his head back a little. Chuck, Paul, and Sam continued to hold him too. Charlotte opened her mouth and a thin white light slipped past her lips. Chuck, Sam, and Paul did the same. The white light moved into Cas' mouth and disappeared.

Cas' eyes glowed bright as his body stiffened. Dean started to move forward, but Claire grabbed his arm and kept him back. Alex settled a hand on his other arm. Cas closed his eyes and fell to the earth. Dean was at his side, knees in the dirt, hands scooping up his head. "Cas. Cas, you okay?" He looked up at the others, who were smiling. "What'd you do to him?"

"It was just a simple transformation, not so dissimilar to when an angel falls and their grace turns into a soul. He had to be in possession of his grace though before that could happen. Seems like Cas wasn't the only one that knew a thing or two about how to work with mighty essences," Billie said.

Cas' eyes opened and he pushed himself up from the ground a little. "Dean."

"You okay, Cas?"

Cas got up but kept a hand on Dean's arm. "I am. I…" He looked at Charlotte then and said, "I have a soul?"

"You have a soul," she replied. "Now when your time comes, perhaps you and Dean can carve out some heavenly space together."

Cas moved away from Dean then and reached out a hand to Charlotte, who took it. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Thank Billie. She was the one who left what seemed to be a whole lot of useless knowledge in my head. I'm starting to think that maybe there's some stuff in here that might not be so useless after all."

"Got some lottery picks for us then Charlotte?" Alex laughed.

"No, but I've got some odd information about child rearing that seems useless. Anyway." She turned and smiled at Dean and said, "I hope that you can forgive me and that in time you can consider me your friend again."

Dean moved to her and pulled her into a hug. "There's nothing to forgive. You never have been anything but my friend the entire time."

Chuck gave Cas a loud slap on the back and said, "What do you all say we go in and crack open a celebratory bottle of something? I think we've all earned a little down time and frivolity." They moved off toward the bunker as a unit, a blanket of honest joy just beginning to bubble up to the surface with each step.

Sam clapped Cas on the shoulder as they walked back to the bunker. It was daylight and the stars were no longer owning the sky. Sam said, "You're a lot of trouble, ya know?" He smiled as he said it.

"Hopefully, I won't be in the future." Cas smiled back.

"Just take good care of him. He's a lot of trouble too." Sam nodded over at Dean who had his arm wrapped around Cas' waist as they walked.

"I'm not a bit of trouble. It's all him." Dean nearly whined.

"Sure, Dean, sure," Sam laughed at them both.

"So, you human now?" They entered the bunker and Cas held him the whole way in.

"Maybe. At least I know I'll end like one." He must have noticed the look of worry that passed over Dean's face, because he added, "Of course, that will likely be many decades from now. I believe you might see me with grey hair."

"Really?"

"Really." Cas smiled at him as he said it, and the edges of his eyes crinkled up a little in that way that Dean loved.

* * *

It took a few days before some of the worry left Dean. There seemed to be this need to cling to Cas, to make sure that he was there, always. His hand never strayed far from Cas' back or arm. When they slept, and Cas actually slept, Dean would pull him into his space, cocoon him in limbs until he was certain he would not be able to escape. Their time was not finite as it had been before, but Dean thought that one could never be too certain, so he operated as if it was all still possibly temporary.

Everyone was jovial. They ate and drank and found odd little games that would engage them come evening. He and Cas often left the revelries early for the comforts of Dean's room. They were together each night and sometimes during the day when they could sneak away from the others. They still seemed to rush and cling and move as if each moment would be the last. Dean wanted to slow things down, and at the same time, he wanted to have everything that had been missing all at once.

On the seventh day of their new life, Dean woke up early. He looked over at Cas on his side of the bed, lips parted, little puffs of air passing in a sleepy kind of kiss. His hair was mussed from Dean's efforts. A little grin quirked up at the corner of Dean's mouth as he remembered how he had carded his fingers through that hair, and Cas had stared at him so intently as their sweat slick bodies rocked together. Dean was a happy man.

He slipped out of the bed and found some pants on the floor of the dark room. He got dressed and moved out into the hall as quietly as possible. Everyone was likely still asleep. This group though was crazy, so it wasn't unlikely that someone would be up. Dean often found that at any hour someone would be awake, doing something that required cognitive thought. He made his way to the kitchen where the coffee was already brewing. Alex with her great love of coffee had decided that they should just set the timer on it, because waiting in the morning was torture. He couldn't disagree and also decided then and there that this was yet another reason to love that she would be marrying Claire.

He found a coffee mug in the cupboard and got the first cup of coffee. He held it to his lips and breathed in the rich, earthy aroma, then headed out to the main room and up the stairs. He wandered out to the field that they had been in before. The sky was still just a little dark and Denab was there. He settled in on one of the concrete cylinders and drank his coffee. He looked up at the stars and smiled. "I don't know if you take prayers now. Don't even know if you can hear me." Denab seemed brighter somehow. It shouldn't have been. The sun was just beginning to rise, and the edges of the sky were glowing with the pink light of dawn. The stars were still there though, just like always, a gentle reminder of what he had and what he always would have.

He took another sip of the coffee and felt a little breeze wash over him. Cas was in the bunker, likely still sleeping. Cas was in there, and Cas was his. Claire and Alex were in there, a whole world of happy possibilities lay in their futures. And then there was Sam. He was happy when he thought of how things had turned out for him. It had always been a goal for him to have something good come up for Sam, but he never thought that happiness for him could ever be possible. Sam could be free of the life now without the looming need to fix the mistakes of the past. Those were fixed, and they could have some measure of peace now. Dean had been operating under the assumption that Sam had kept on working in the hunter field because he had felt somehow responsible for the way that the world had been. He thought that maybe Sam felt like there was unfinished business.

Dean took another sip of the coffee. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in the crisp morning air. "I just wanted to say, thank you. Thank you for giving him back to us, to me." He looked down at his hands hugging the mug, hands that had done much in this world. "You said you hoped that I'd forgive you. You said that you wanted me to look up to the stars and not hate you so much." He lifted the mug to his lips again and drank. "I don't hate you. And though I don't see how it matters much what one guy here thinks, I forgive you too. Hope that helps." He laughed a little. "Hope you're happy now, ya got me out here at the butt crack of dawn talking to the fuckin' sky."

He didn't hear Claire until she was nearly at his side, laughing at him. "Morning." She sat next to him on the concrete cylinder.

"Morning." She had her mug of coffee settled on her knee. "You're up early."

"Could say the same thing about you." She leaned into his side and rested her head on his shoulder. "Is this what it feels like to be happy?"

"I think so." Dean wrapped an arm around her and drank down the last swig of his coffee.

"Shouldn't you be curled up in bed right now with a certain someone?"

"Shouldn't you?" Dean countered immediately.

"Yeah, I guess I just needed to see that the world outside was still here, that it wasn't all some sort of odd dream. I'm just, a little surprised each day when I wake up and the world is still set to rights."

Dean pressed a kiss to her head. "Same." He set his mug down on the space next to him. "First couple of nights I thought that I'd wake up and Cas wouldn't be there. I freaked out a little when he went off to another room, and I couldn't see him for a minute. I sort of follow him around a bit too much. This is the first time I've actually chosen to separate voluntarily."

"So what brought you out to the big wide world sans Cas?" Claire set her coffee mug on the space next to her and took Dean's hand in hers.

"I owed them a few words." He nodded up at the brightening sky. "Guess it just seemed like there were things that I needed to tell them. Hopefully, they know that I appreciate the end results of their sacrifices."

"I'm sure they know." She smiled up at him. The sky was bright now, and Denab had disappeared into the day. After some time had passed, Claire asked, "So, what're your plans now? You two gonna stay here or…" She waved a hand out at the world to signify all of the other options.

Dean smiled at the thought that all of the other options were now a golden possibility. "I haven't exactly spoken with Cas about this. I don't know what he'd like to do with the rest of his life."

"You could go back to your job. You were good at it. Made me forget how much I despise school."

"What would Cas do though?"

Claire laughed. "He could be your house husband."

"Pretty sure he would not be good at that."

Claire waggled her eyebrows at him. "I don't know Dean. You know the doors have little vents at the bottom in the bunker? We all know way too much about how good you think…"

Dean cut her off. "That has nothing to do with the future plans that we will be discussing." Dean looked off at the horizon and added, "Might need to make a conscious effort though to temper our enthusiasm." Claire just laughed. Eventually, they heard the crunching of gravel. They both turned to it at once and saw Cas wandering toward them, hair still a wild mess, shirt untucked, and sweatpants loose and baggy on him. Dean sucked in a breath of pure lustful joy. "Hot damn. How'd I get so lucky?"

"I hesitate to mention all that you both had to go through to get to this point." Claire got up and met Cas halfway. Dean watched as Claire wrapped her arms around him, pressing her cheek into his chest. Cas hugged her back and kissed past her hair. He looked like he had said something to her, but Dean couldn't hear what. Cas let her go and she wandered off back to the bunker.

"Hello, Dean," Cas said when he got to the space in front of him. There was a bit of timidity in him in just this moment that was rather endearing. He had been a force to be reckoned with the last several nights, commanding and also all consuming.

Dean smiled back and raised a hand up to him. Cas took it, and sat beside him. "Sleep well?"

"I'm still getting use to it. I'd rather not wake up alone." He looked at Dean and seemed to rethink his words. "I didn't mean that like it sounded."

"I'm sorry. I should have woken you up, but you looked peaceful and happy. Didn't want to disturb that."

Cas smiled at him. "I wouldn't have called that disturbing. I'd have called that something else entirely."

"Yeah, probably a prelude to more sex."

"That wouldn't be a bad thing."

Dean laughed now. "Not at all, but I needed to try out praying this morning. Had some things that I needed to say."

"I can't hear prayers anymore." There was a small measure of melancholy in Cas' tone.

"I'm sorry, Cas. You've given up too much."

Cas reached up and turned Dean's face to him. He stared at him with all of his old intensity. "I haven't felt like I've had to give up a thing." He kissed Dean then, light and gentle. Dean parted his lips a little, but Cas didn't deepen the kiss. He brushed his fingers over Dean's cheek and occasionally stopped kissing him to whisper some words of endearment. It was peaceful, and at the same time it was new. There was no rushing in this moment. Everything was quiet and still. A distant trill of an early morning bird's song ended the silence.

When Cas leaned back and stared up at the sky, Dean followed his gaze. "I told them thank you." Cas looked back at him when he spoke. He gave Dean that questioning look. Dean asked, "You think that they still hear prayers?"

"Did it feel like they did?"

Dean considered the question. Even with Cas he had often been unsure as to whether or not he had been heard. He did feel peace though as he prayed. "I don't know."

"I'd like to believe that they heard you, because that will mean that they'll hear me as well, when I'm ready to pray." Cas took his hand in his. "I have much to be grateful for as well." He gave Dean's hand a squeeze to punctuate the sentence.

They let the day warm them by slow degrees, content to just sit and breathe. The stretch of time made Dean wonder about their futures and how long they'd have together. He wondered about their goals and plans that were as yet nebulous. "Claire was wondering what we'd do next."

"Was she now?" Cas' tone was light and comfortable.

"Yeah, and it got me to wondering what you wanted to do with your life, and how long you'd get to live?"

Cas pulled Dean a little closer and wrapped his hand around his waist. "I don't know the number of my days, but I have many. I have a soul now, so we will grow old together. As per the other question, I have no plans as of yet that extend beyond our current activities." Dean felt the corners of his lips quirk up into a smirk. "I'm certain that you still have some skin that I have not yet thoroughly inspected."

"These are good plans." Dean felt the heat rushing to his face, and he wondered if there would ever be a time when Cas didn't affect him so easily. "What about the big things? Like, do you want to live here or elsewhere? Do you want to work or hunt? Do you want to have your own place while you get use to your human life?"

"That last question was just stupid, Dean."

"Yeah, it really was." He laughed and settled his head on Cas' shoulder. He put his arm on Cas' leg, wrapping his hand around Cas' knee. "But the other questions weren't."

"I go where you go. I think that was the deal." Cas kissed into his hair.

"I want to know what you want though too."

"You enjoyed teaching at the community college. I'd like to go home with you and see you do that. The world of academia is appealing." Dean liked the way that Cas looked so sincere, the way his lips pressed closed in a tight line of thoughtfulness.

"You think you might want to teach or something?" Dean tipped his head back and kissed up into Cas' neck. "I've got this office. It's small, cramped even, but I would like to get you in there."

Dean kept kissing Cas' neck. The low rumble of Cas' voice was triggering all the arousal that was already heating up in Dean. "Something tells me that you want to show me more than just your office." Cas pressed a languid kiss to Dean's neck, just behind his ear. "Do you have a desk?"

"I do." Dean laughed at the odd question.

"How large is it?"

Dean leaned back and looked at the concrete cylinder that they were sitting on, then turned his eyes back to Cas. "Bigger than this at least." Cas hummed. "Sturdy too." Dean got up and held out a hand to him. "Come back into the bunker with me."

"Why?"

"I want to check out the desk in my room, see if it's about the same size." Dean smirked and Cas got up and matched his look.

Halfway back and Cas asked, "Do you have a bookshelf in your office?"

"Yes, it's full of works on astronomy and philosophy. I stocked the philosophy books for Charlotte, for the days that she was around."

"If I taught there, I'd have to get an advanced degree. It could be years." They went inside and snaked their way back to the bedroom.

"Nah, we'll just get Sam to make you some fake papers. Not like you have a paper trail anyway. Besides, you'll need some IDs and such if we want the world to view you as a real dude and all."

"That might prove useful." Cas pushed the bedroom door closed and pulled off his clothes. Dean sat on the bed and toed off his shoes.

"Necessary, actually," Dean said.

Cas tipped his head to the side. "Necessary?"

"Yeah, 'cause I'm gonna marry you, and you need to exist on paper for me to do that." Dean just grinned at Cas' shocked expression.

"You could just have Sam make up those papers too."

"No, I don't want those papers to be fake. I know a preacher too, that said he'd help us out, I mean, if you happen to be interested." Dean was smiling at him, knowing full well that Cas was fine with this plan.

"Clearly, Dean, spending the rest of my life with you in any capacity, is all that I want." He paused a beat and added, "I will marry you. It is redundant as your soul and mine are entwined, but I like that we keep finding new and varied ways to connect." His eyes dropped to Dean's lap. He fell to his knees between Dean's legs and pressed his palms to Dean's thighs. He pulled off Dean's pants, and Dean stifled a laugh.

"You've certainly adjusted to certain aspects of humanity with ease."

"I've spent an inordinate amount of time contemplating sex with you. It is nice to finally give actions to my prior thoughts."

Cas pressed his index fingers past the waistband of Dean's boxer briefs and pulled them down in a single fluid motion. Dean just had to push himself up a little to make the action go smoothly. "So, an inordinate amount of time, huh?"

"It was a maddening and confusing existence." He looked up at Dean past lashes that fluttered a little. Cas looked down at Dean's lap then back up again with a smirk. "It may have been worth it."

"May have?" Dean laughed. He brought his hands to Cas' face. He wanted to linger in this moment, just look at him. For Cas' part he didn't move, seeming to sense Dean's need. Cas pushed himself up a little and Dean leaned down. They kissed in the space between them. When they parted a moment later, Dean said, "Go slow."

Cas nodded. He leaned toward Dean's chest and kissed him over his breastbone. He nuzzled in closer and Dean spread his legs to draw him in. Cas ran his hands around Dean's back, resting them just close enough to Dean's butt. He kissed a trail down Dean's chest to his sides, seemingly intending to feel the skin over each rib under his lips.

Dean let his fingers slowly brush over the hair at the base of Cas' neck. The hair there tickled his fingertips. Dean liked the languid feel of the moment, the way that they seemed less desperate now than they had befor. No one was leaving. No one would be dragged away. They had a lifetime ahead of them both to learn each other beyond what they already knew. "I love you," Dean whispered.

Cas sucked a kiss into the space between Dean's leg and hip. "I find you tolerable." Cas rested his head on Dean's thigh and rolled it back a little to look up at Dean, wanting to see the effect of his joke. The breath from his slightly parted lips ghosted over Dean's lap. Dean regretted his request for slowness just a little. Cas did not move. Dean said, "Just tolerable, huh?"

"Just tolerable." Cas smirked. He went back to kissing Dean. He grazed over his thigh, letting the back of his head brush over Dean's arousal. Dean carded his hands through Cas' hair and gave him a gentle pull. "Not yet." Cas took both of Dean's hands in his and set them on the bed at his sides. "Keep those there." He looked up at Dean in a way that seemed rather commanding, and though Dean would not disobey, Cas added, "If you move them, I'll stop, and you'll learn just how slow I can make this."

"Exactly how slow are we talking?" Not that Dean wanted to go any slower.

"I can go for days," Cas growled out. "I'm much more patient than you."

Dean decided that there was a challenge in that that he'd like to revisit at a later date. He wondered if he could make Cas beg for something. He wondered if he could deny Cas in an effort at prolonging pleasure. He thought that maybe Cas was right. He wasn't so sure he'd have the stamina for that much patience. He was certainly willing to try though. _Focus._ Cas was kissing the inside of his knee now, and it was glorious. He hadn't realized how sensitive he was there. Cas' hand squeezed the back of his other thigh. Dean fell back onto the bed, careful to keep his hands exactly where Cas had placed them.

There was a certain luxury to what they were experiencing. They were moving like they had all the time in the world. It was something almost novel to them both. Dean remembered what it was to feel like he had too much time, like life had gone on for too long. Now all he could think was that life like this could never be long enough. Time stretched out for them as Cas blanketed his body in kisses and the gentlest of touches. He breathed love into Dean's skin. Dean wanted to do the same for him too, and he would when the time was right. For now he could let Cas do this.

Cas licked a stripe up the underside of his thigh, moving slowly up, up, up. And Dean thought, _finally_ as Cas centered himself, tongue still leading the way. Cas didn't linger though. He let his tongue slip over Dean in a gentle glide brushing over the tip and onward and away. "Cas," Dean said in a low tone of desperation. His fingers clutched at the bedding at his sides as Cas inched up the bed, tongue now gliding up Dean's stomach, to his chest, to each of Dean's nipples for a quick detour. Cas' legs were framing him now. His arms were bracing him up, muscles taut and close to Dean's head. Cas' tongue slipped over Dean's throat and up to his lips where it stopped it's journey.

Dean was done with this game. Yet Cas was not done, not yet. He kissed Dean, slow and sweet. Dean opened his mouth and sucked in Cas' bottom lip. He was rewarded with a low hum of pleasure from Cas and the feel of his body settling down on Dean's own. Their hips rocked together for a moment, and Dean thought that this could be more than enough. "You may move your hands." Cas leaned away and looked at him. Dean reached up to him and cupped his face in his hands. "I will never understand why more angels do not choose to fall." Cas brushed back Dean's hair slowly, leaving his hand entangled in the short strands.

"Perhaps they just haven't been presented with the full benefits package." Dean ran his hands down Cas' body to settle at his lower back. Dean rocked his hips up into Cas, watching as Cas closed his eyes a moment before he sucked in a long breath past clenched teeth.

"That must be it." Cas reached over to the nightstand for lube and once again Dean was surprised by the fact that Cas handled sex with an ease that usually only came from experience, experience that Cas did not have. _He must have seen a lot in his time as an angel,_ and now Dean thought, _I am reaping the benefits._ Cas readied Dean slowly. His hands on Dean were gentle and moved with absolute purpose. Dean felt his eyes rolling back into his head as the fresh static pulse of pleasure ran through his body. Cas knew him, knew every atom of his being, and used all of that knowledge with purpose.

Dean still had his hands on Cas' back. Dean's body was ready, but Cas kept up his efforts. Dean was done waiting. He moved his legs in, wrapping them around Cas as he rolled them both over. Cas was startled by the change, and looked up at him, back pressed firmly to the bed. "Thought we'd change things up a little." Dean positioned himself over Cas and waited for some sign that he was following along with the new plan. "You good?"

Cas laughed at him, a rich melodious sound of pure joy. "Yes, Dean. I'm good." And he was. And so was Dean. They moved together, Dean looking down at him through most of it. His eyes fell closed occasionally with the bliss of it all. And when they reached the end, Dean swore that he saw stars, huge bursts of them brighter than any he had seen in any night sky. They breathed in each other and lay in each other's arms, knowing that the world was theirs now. They had each other, and time, and all the things that Dean had fervently wished for under the canopy of the star-marked heavens. And it was good.

* * *

 **AN: This has been a real labor of love here. It's finally over though. I do plan to pen an epilogue that I'll post after this chapter. I'm not sure when it will be finished as I have to work on some other stuff first, but it is happening. For now, thanks for reading this, giving it a fav, a follow, and/or a review. All are appreciated.**


End file.
